Life With Derek: For Marti
by BigDaddyThaddy
Summary: Tragedy hits the Venturi:MacDonald family, causing the two eldest children to become responsible adults through their overwhelming grief, thus bringing them closer. DASEY. Sum inside. R&R FORMERLY: MARTI THE MATCHMAKER!
1. o1o

**Rating:**_ T  
_**Genre:**_ Angst/Romance  
_**Relationship:**_ Dasey  
_**Summary: **_When tragedy hits the Venturi/MacDonald family, the two eldest children must return from their separate lives to take care of the only survivor. In the process of grieving and trying their best to raise a young girl, old feelings are brought back to life._  
**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing except my twist on the show and character's owned entirely by someone else.  
_

**_For Marti_**

o1o

It had taken a few hours, but Derek finally managed to convince Marti bedtime was a good idea. She had arrived around four in the afternoon and it was going on ten now. While he loved having her there, he was completely exhausted. He flicked the light switch and wrapped his hand around the door handle pulling it closed as he made to leave.

"Smerek," Marti called out, sitting up on the large bed.

"Yeah Smarti?" he asked, leaning in his doorway.

"When I wake up, am I going to be in my bed?" she asked, tipping her head and staring at him sleepily.

"Yeah, dad and Nora will pick you up before they head home," he told her.

"But I don't want to. I want to stay here with you," she said, shaking her head. "And we can have fun all the time!"

Crossing his bedroom, he sat down beside his little sister. "Eventually you'd miss dad and Nora. Not to mention Lizzie and Ed," he reminded. "And besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"What does that mean?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"It means, not seeing me for awhile make's our time together more fun," he explained, leaning her back to the pillow and lifting the blankets around her. "I know we don't see each other much since I moved out, but we have fun during these sleep overs, right?"

Nodding, she yawned, her eyes fluttering. "Yeah, you put whip cream on my pancakes," she said, smiling.

Chuckling, he nodded. "Yeah, now go to sleep Smarti, and tomorrow you'll be eating Nora's delicious scrambled eggs."

Shaking her head, her eyes fell closed. "I want more pancakes," she murmured before drifting to sleep.

Smiling, Derek slipped off the bed and crept out of his room. Crossing the kitchen, he plopped down on the couch and channel surfed for awhile. This was his regular Thursday night; his dad and Nora would take Edwin and Lizzie out for a movie or dinner, and Marti would spend the night with her favorite big brother. He rather liked it, even if it somewhat cramped the life of a college student. He could manage it though; he was cool enough to get past the snickers his hockey buddies left ringing in his ears.

After highschool ended, Derek had moved out to his own apartment across from the college that had excitedly given him a hockey scholarship. He was only about a half hour away from his childhood home, so he came and went whenever. It was a lot easier to do laundry now that he wasn't stuck in a house of seven. His fridge was usually understocked but he was working on it. After all, college kids live off KD, pizza, and beer; his three favorite food groups.

At eighteen Derek was pretty happy with his life; consisting of hockey, business courses, his own place, girls and parties on the weekend, and Thursday nights with Marti. The little girl's visits were actually something he looked forward to. At six years old, she had to be one of his favorite people. Not only did she completely admire him for absolutely no reason, but she never judged him for anything stupid he did, which was a nice change.

Every day he had someone else telling him what to do, and he really wasn't one for orders. If it wasn't his hockey coach telling him to move faster, or score more, it was his teachers telling him he needed to get an essay of twenty pages in within two days. Then his dad was calling, always asking if he was keeping his grades up and working hard for his scholarship. Making sure his job at the restaurant down the road was still his and working out well. Then Nora would come on the phone, reminding him to eat his vegetables and making sure he separated his clothes for washing. Then Ed would ask how many girls he'd met at college, always pressuring him, without really knowing it, to be the supreme dude.

Then he'd get that dreaded call from his mother, reminding him how little she believed in him. Where she'd drone on about how many years it would take to get a business of his own going, and the money it would take. How much work he would have to put into school if he really wanted to become a businessman. And then she'd remind him over and over that she didn't want to pressure him to become something he wasn't really equipped to become. Pushing it farther into his face that he wasn't the shining example of a son she really wanted. The kind that would raise a family, have neighborhood BBQ's, and live off a substantial paycheck each month. She didn't believe he could be that guy, and she never spared a moment to tell him so.

If he ever had kids, he wanted them to be like Marti. Sure she was a little crazy, what with her spurts of believing she's a cat. Which she still goes through, even though it's been two years. But she has an overwhelmingly warm presence. Always managing to make Derek happy and keep her family on their toes. He couldn't help but think that his dad was luckier than he could possibly know, having such a personable kid around.

As his mind ran through all of the people consisting in his family, it landed on the girl he chose to push out of his mind as much as possible. The one girl who caused his annoyance to rise along with his desire to kiss her every time she opened her mouth. Their fighting, day in and day out, only bred feelings for her that he couldn't push away. For two years he was stuck living with her, fighting with her, and hating the fact that she was his step sister when he really wanted her to be just another girl at the school. A girl he could talk to civilly, while possibly taking them out on a date. He knew he wasn't the only one feeling that way either, because there were moments in the last year before both of them left home, that their yelling got the best of them and they found themselves tangled in a heated kiss. It always ended with her growling in anger before stomping away from him and ignoring him the next few days.

His feelings for her were likely derived from her challenging him, which no other girl had done before. They never questioned what he said or did, they just accepted it and more often thought it was cool or funny. She always questioned his actions though. Always wanted to know what he was doing, just to be sure it wouldn't cause any problems. She played it off for awhile as if she was worried he would somehow ruin her, but then it looked more like she was just interested in what his next scheme was. She wasn't interested in a way that cause her to join in, but more so she could work her best to stop and destroy his plan. While this annoyed him to great lengths, he rather liked their incessant fighting and racing to be better than the other.

He usually won. It didn't matter what the fight was, or what they were yelling about. In the end, what Derek wants, Derek gets. The only thing he had ever wanted and didn't get, was her. Throughout all their fighting, all their angry kissing, and heated moments together, he really thought that one day she would falter. One day she would finally just admit that she felt the same way. That she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her. And they would give up their fighting and finally just be a couple; because it was really the argument underlying each one of their squabbles. It wasn't over bathroom space or the last piece of pie. Derek wanted to finally give up their charade of hating each other and just be together, but she was stubborn and she wasn't going to let it happen. She wouldn't admit that she felt something for him, other than step sibling hatred. Yes, the girl that caused so many mind boggling problems in Derek's mind was his step sister, Casey MacDonald.

She had moved away shortly after he did, going to a school a half hour away from home, but in the opposite direction of Derek. Casey was deep into her studies so much that she hardly visited home anymore. Lizzie spent every second weekend at Casey's apartment, doing their sisterly thing. Every once in a while, she'd stop at the house to see her mom or the rest of the family. She had finally accepted Marti's weird behavior and the small girl was likely her favorite of the Venturi family, since she openly lied about her feelings towards Derek. Sometimes Marti even went with Lizzie to spend the weekend with Casey, who would take them shopping or rent movies for them to watch and paint their nails. She was working at a highly known Bridal shop, making a killing off of her commission.

Leaning back into the couch farther, Derek tried to rid his mind of the unrequited feelings, and thought a little more about the plays he was supposed to be memorizing for the big hockey game Sunday night. While he wasn't the captain of the team, being new and all, he was slowly making his way up the chain to being the best player. There were a few guys who were a little faster than him, or made a goal or two more than he did, but he was going to beat them in the end. Because he is Derek Venturi, and there is no other guy who knows the game of hockey like he does.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Smiling, he reached for the receiver; it was likely his dad, too tired to walk upstairs and get his daughter. He'd called from the parking lot before, asking Derek to bring Marti down for him and put her in the van so they could go home. It wasn't until recently that they started making more family plans; Thursday nights with Lizzie and Edwin and Sunday mornings with Marti. Probably because he and Casey fought too much for anyone to enjoy an outing.

"Yeah dad, I'll grab Marti and bring her down," he said, without asking.

"Is this Derek Venturi?" a thick male voice questioned.

Derek felt a shudder run through him; sitting up straight, his face drained of emotion. "Yeah," he said. "Who's this?"

"This is Officer Bradley, son. I have some very upsetting news," he went on.

Derek's eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open. The phone was slipping from his hands, but he clearly heard the words, "accident," "all those involved," and "died." His breathing was coming in short spurts, causing his chest to ache. His eyes were burning while hot tears streamed down his face. A sob was stuck in the back of his throat, while his hands ran up into his hair tugging on it fiercely. Suddenly it seemed like he couldn't breath at all, he kept inhaling but his lungs continued to burn for more.

"Sir," the man on the forgotten phone called out. "Sir, are you there?"

Running his arm over his face, he shook his head and lifted up the phone with a shaky hand. "M-my d-dad," he stuttered out. "Is he... And my brother, Ed?" he asked, his hand curling around couch. "And m-m-m-my step mother, Nora? And L-Lizzie?" he asked, feeling like he was rambling incoherently. "Are you sure? Maybe it wasn't there van, m-m-maybe you got the plates confused." Shaking his head, he knew he was being irrational. "Or are they just at the hospital? A-a-alive?"

There was a long drawn out sigh on the other line. "I'm really sorry son, all four occupants in the car were killed on impact. The driver of the opposite vehicle is in ICU, he was impaired and returning from a party at one of the nearby college's," he explained, slowly. "Am I to understand that there are two other children that need to be notified?" he asked, calmly. "A Marti Venturi, daughter of George Venturi. And Cassandra MacDonald, daughter of Nora MacDonald."

Inhaling sharply, Derek found his body numbing and his words coming out in a monotone and emotionless voice. "Marti's with me," he told him. "I'm taking care of her."

"And do you have any way I can contact Cassandra MacDonald?" he asked.

"Uh, do- do you think I could tell her," he asked. "She's... very sensitive and I think she'd prefer to be told by someone who knows her."

"Of course," the officer said, understandingly. "But, there will be a few things that need to be settled. Such as confirmation of the bodies," he added. "I don't me to be so abrupt, but there really is no other way to tell you these things."

"No, I understand," Derek said, staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

The officer paused for a moment, before adding, "I'm really, very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Derek said, before hanging up the phone.

Lifting from the floor, he slowly walked to the bathroom. Standing over the sink, he stared at himself for a moment, taking in his pale, drawn exterior. A moment later, he felt his stomach turn and everything launched up from his stomach, spilling into the bottomless hole of the sink. After a few moments, he ran the cold water and splashed it over his face. Taking some of it in his mouth and rinsing it of the awful taste.

Walking to his room, he stared down at a peacefully sleeping Marti, feeling the hot sting of tears rolling down his cheeks. She was all he had left; the only member of his family that cared in the very least. But he needed someone to talk to, he needed someone who was going to understand this grief that was suddenly consuming him so painfully. Swallowing, he crossed the room and carefully lifted his little sister into his arms. Carrying her out of the apartment, he locked it up before dashing to his car and buckling her in.

It was shortly after eleven when he pulled up in front of her apartment building, he was lucky enough not to have to buzz in as a man saw him and held the door open while he ran over, cradling a sleeping Marti in his arms. He was surprised she hadn't woken up yet, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper. Taking the steps two at a time, without enough patience for the elevator, he found himself on the third floor, banging on her apartment door.

It took a moment, but suddenly the door opened and a very tired, angry Casey stood in front of him. Shaking his head, he brushed past her and dropped Marti in her bedroom before walking back out to meet her confused face. He knew how bad he looked, he knew his face was still white and his eyes were rimmed red and his clothes were rumpled from bunching them up and wiping his shirt over his wet face.

She closed the door, locking it and stood waiting for an explanation. Her foot was tapping while her arms were crossed. She was her old self again, with the annoyed set of her mouth and a furrowed brow. She was waiting for him to tell her what stupid thing he had done, and for a moment he didn't want to take that away from her. He didn't want her to feel the overwhelming grief he was covered in. He wanted her to stay like this; angry and annoyed with him for no reason except that he woke her up at 11 at night.

His hands clenched and released beside his legs, he simply stared at her. Watching her face turn from one of annoyance to that of confusion and finally to worry. He could feel the tears again, making their way down his face, no wonder she was concerned. He never cried; not unless it was for one helluva reason.

"Derek?' she asked, stepping forward. Her hand reached out to him, wrapping around his forearm. "What's wrong?" she wondered, tipping her head.

Feeling like he couldn't hold back, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Burying his face in her neck, he sobbed. His father was gone, along with his little brother. No more Venturi family, just two caskets, a sobbing boy, and a little girl who wouldn't understand what happened. His father would never use that tone of voice when he's trying to tell him to be more respectful. He'd never be sitting in the front row of his hockey games, cheering and shouting, "That's my son!" He wouldn't be calling to see if Derek was doing alright for groceries or money, or anything he might need. And Edwin wouldn't be calling to ask advice about girls anymore. He wouldn't need special expertise from his dude of a brother. He wouldn't be admiring his brother for his power and cool reputation, hanging off of every word he said like he was some sort of God.

His step mother was never going to call him and tell him to eat more vegetables, or to separate the whites from the dark's. She wasn't going to make him her special scrambled eggs, that melted in his mouth. Or lecture him on how to treat women while she tugged on his ear and read him the rights of all women alike. Lizzie wasn't going to be stopping by and proposing a solution to whatever problem he and Casey were having that week. She wouldn't be politely asking him to stop making Casey crazy. And she wouldn't be begging him to play soccer with her in the back yard; a worthy opponent is what she considered him.

His body shook painfully as he clutched at Casey's back and let himself completely break in her arms. This would be the one and only time. He would fully let this out now, and there would be no encore in the future. While the wound was fresh and bleeding, he would ask her to cradle him, in need of support. He had no father to help him through it, no step mother to tell him it would be okay. And his mother would do nothing to help him in the future. All he had was Casey; her and Marti. He hadn't even told her yet, but she still rubbed his back and held him tightly.

His hands ran down through her hair, his fingers tangling in it and holding it tightly. His arms were around her in such a strong embrace that he was worried she might not be able to breath. She didn't complain though, or squirm or wince. She simply let him cry, for whatever reason she didn't know, and waited for his tears to subside and his body to relax. After a few minutes, Derek finally pulled back from her enough and opened his mouth.

"I-" His voice broke and he wasn't sure he'd be able to get it out. "They-" Inhaling deeply, he looked away from her eyes, seeing his own in hers, brimming with tears. Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, he let it out slowly. "Dad and Nora were coming to pick up M-Marti," he explained, softly. Turning back to her, he stared into her eyes, slowly they were coming to realize what he was saying. "There was a boy leaving a party, drunk." He swallowed, trying to steady his voice and get out what he needed to tell her. "There was an accident," he explained, his lips quivering. Her head was shaking back and forth now as her hand lifted to her mouth. "All four of them were k-k-k-" Closing his eyes, he felt the tears spill down his cheeks. "They didn't make it," he stated, quietly.

"No," Casey said, stepping away from him. "NO, no, no, no," she muttered, tears riddling her face and her body slipping from its standing position.

Walking to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist as she began to fall.

"NO!" she screamed, beating her fists against his chest and falling into his embrace. "You're wrong," she told him, sobbing. "It wasn't them," she said, shaking her head furiously.

Nodding slowly, Derek slipped to the ground, cradling her in his arms. "It was them, Case," he said, stiffly.

"I need my mom," she told him, shaking her head, pleading with him to tell her it wasn't true.

Crying painfully, she pressed her face against his neck and inhaled deep breaths of air, making a sharp hiccuping noise as she did. She curled up into a ball, leaning against his chest and sobbing openly for a long time. He simply held her, his tears now falling silently. They rocked back and forth, clutching at each other for some kind of help through their grief.

She must've cried for hours before she finally drifted off against him. Lifting her up from the floor, he brought her into the room where Marti was sleeping in. Lifting the covers, he wrapped them around her tightly. Seeing them there, the only surviving people that he loved, he decided he couldn't leave them, even for a moment. Walking to the other side of the bed, he slipped in beside Marti and closed his eyes. All he saw was the face's of his father and brother, causing his eyes to burst back open. Turning onto his back, he stared blankly at the dark roof. His body ached, his head throbbed with a migraine, his eyes still wept, and his face felt cold. Blinking his burning eyes, he swallowed, wishing the ball of pent up hurt would leave his throat.

Derek couldn't do this; he couldn't be strong and help Marti and Casey through all of their pain. He couldn't handle his own pain without running to Casey for her understanding nature. How was he supposed to explain to his little sister that she was never going to see her dad or brother again? That her step mother and step sister weren't alive any longer? And what would happen to her now? Their mother certainly didn't want her and wasn't qualified to take care of her. She was a horrible mother, always making him feel less adequate than he was. Did Nora and his dad have a will? Who would take Marti? His aunt? His mother? Him?

He rather wanted it to be him. He didn't want her growing up with a stranger. He wanted her to be part of his life, always. He'd raise her well; he hoped. But he wasn't able to be a father figure was he? He couldn't raise a six year old, could he? He didn't care; he would become what it took to raise Marti. He wouldn't let someone who hardly knew her take her away from him.

Rolling onto his side, he brushed a strand of hair off her sleeping face. He promised himself then and there that he would not let her be taken from him. He was her older brother; her hero. And he would raise her, take care of her, and love her like their father would have. And while he may never be her father, and only her brother, he would take care of her as both. Marti wasn't going anywhere, she was staying with him no matter what.

His eyes began to flutter, his face slowly relaxing. The overwhelming events finally pulled him into a restless sleep, filled with upsetting dreams of the family he had lost. Throughout the night, he woke up numerous times, drenched in a cold sweat. Swallowing down his fear and pain, he rolled off the bed and walked to the bathroom. After washing his face off with cold water, he scoured Casey's fridge for something to drink. Downing a bottle of water, he made his way back to her room. They had rolled over, Marti now on the side and Casey in the middle.

Pulling his drenched shirt off, he slipped back into the bed, this time beside Casey, and simply watched her in the blue lighting of the room. The sun was rising, hitting the blue curtains and sending the room into a calming, cool shade. Watching her face for a moment, unable to ignore the sadness that slept in each crevice of her, he reached out and ran his hand down her cheek softly. She stirred slightly, but simply let out a soft sigh and continued sleeping.

He knew that she was going to be his lifeline, whether he wanted it or not. She was going to be the one who called him at the right moment, asking if he needed to talk. She'd be the one who came by to help him make sure Marti was being raised right. She would be the one to hold him in those dark moments when his life seemed to be crumbling around him. And when it felt like all hope was lost, he would turn and see her. See her staring at him with understanding, or see her deep in her own sad thoughts. They would comfort each other, finding refuge in each other's pain.

Reaching down, Derek entwined his hand with hers ever so slowly. And closing his eyes, he let himself fall back to sleep, this time free of the haunting nightmares. Tomorrow would be a hard day; a day of depression. One in which he'd have to explain things to Marti, and possibly call other family members with the news. Then he'd have to call the hospital and figure out what was needed. Eventually a funeral would have to be held and something would have to be done about the house. There were so many problems, so many question nagging his grief ridden mind. But that was tomorrow, for now he would let himself sleep, beside the two females left in his life. The only two people who mattered anymore.

oTBCo

**A/N** _I know, I'm deep into the sequel for The Secret, but this story came to me and I just couldn't ignore it. So don't worry, I'm still working on "What Happened to Happily Ever After?" I'm just working on this story too. I hope you 'enjoyed' this. It's a very angsty chapter, which will eventually lead into some romance. For now, they deal with the sadness and events surrounding their families deaths. Please review, it's greatly appreciated._


	2. o2o

**_For Marti_**

o2o

Casey woke up to a surprising sight; her eyes opened to find Derek's hand wound tightly around her. It took her a moment to remember why he was there and seeing him reminded her exactly what had happened. Part of her had almost believed it was all a terrible nightmare, but she could see in his face that it wasn't. He looked so tired, so hurt and wounded. When sleeping he couldn't hide his emotions and Casey was overwhelmed with the raw pain she saw in his sleeping face.

Instead of letting his hand go, she held it tighter. Rolling over slightly, she stared at the bare space beside her with a furrowed brow. Straining her ears, she heard cartoons coming from the television and realized Marti must've woken up and gone through her regular morning routine without waking Casey or Derek. It pained her to think of how they were going to explain things to the little girl. Her young mind wouldn't really grasp the severity of what had happened, and it would be hard to find the words to explain that she would never again see her family.

While Casey wanted to be strong, wanted to ease away Derek's pain and bring Marti through the devastation that had hit them, she couldn't erase her own hurt. While she stared up at her roof, her mind took her away to the past. Bringing her through the moments she had with her mother, from just seeing her smile to hearing her say good morning. From being held in her arms and hugged tightly, to being reprimanded for the silliness of a fight she had with Derek. She would give anything for any of those moments back; to just see her mother one more time and have her hold her close.

She's never have any more conversations with her little sister; young and insightful Lizzie would never again make things clear for her older sister. She wouldn't sit calmly in her room, asking questions to better understand what was transpiring between the two teens of the house. She wouldn't hug Casey anymore, assuring her that she was a great big sister and overall person. She wouldn't play soccer; her favorite sport. She'd never play Monopoly again with the family, always managing to make the smarter moves that kept her out of jail.

Casey would never see Edwin again, the funny little boy who managed to come up with rather interesting schemes. She'd never be able to bribe him into giving her information on Derek's latest adventure in his school business. There would never be a day when Casey would finally convince him not to follow in Derek's steps when it came to girls, and to become a real gentleman. She'd never find out exactly how he managed to make all that money he had stashed away. Or roll her eyes at his worship for Derek.

George was never going to try and come up with a bad solution to the problems between her and Derek anymore. He wouldn't show up in her room to try and tell her he understood what she was going through, giving her a bad recollection of his own past that still hadn't turned out. He wouldn't be reprimanding Derek, though it never did anything anyway. And he wouldn't be there to make Casey feel like he really cared about her; that she wasn't an intruder in the family, but a real person.

Lifting her free hand, Casey pressed it against her furrowed brow. Her temples throbbed with a headache, and her eyes burned with the tears that had consumed her. Her shoulders shook painfully while she tried to keep the sob stuck in her throat. She didn't want Marti to hear, she'd ask questions that Casey just didn't have answers to yet. Casey wanted to curl into herself, she felt so alone and empty. Who was she supposed to talk to about this? Her entire family had been wiped out completely; she had nobody left.

Her lips quivered as she sucked in another sharp breath; biting down, she tried to steady her shaking mouth. Shaking her head, she wished she could fall back asleep and get away from the pain that crept up into her every fibre. She couldn't do this; she wasn't strong enough to live through losing her mother and sister. She had nobody now; not anybody who would care. Her aunt wouldn't be able to help her and Vicky wasn't much of a comforting person. Her father was a distant man that really paid hardly any attention to her or her sister; sending a check every month but nothing more.

Suddenly, Casey felt herself being pulled across the bed. Derek wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest. Her face buried into his shoulder and her hands clutched at his arms, needing his strength to bring her back down from the wave of emotions that had crashed down on her. Sobbing quietly, her breathing was labored and causing her to shake. His hands ran up and down her back, soothing her and slowly lulling her away from her tears until she was calmly laying in his embrace.

"You're not alone," he said, quietly.

Turning her wet eyes up to him, she stared at him, confused. Part of her was selfish enough to think that now that they didn't have any marriage keeping them together, he would disappear from her life entirely. It seemed like it would be exactly what he wanted, and yet here he was. He could've called and told her, but he drove an entire hour to her place. And he had been open enough to actually cry in front of her; that was something else completely. He had always been hidden so far into this shell of a facade, keeping himself at a distance from her unless they were fighting.

There was always something between them, whether it was a step sibling hatred or the fact that they were completely attracted to each other, she wasn't sure. He infuriated her so often that it took awhile for her to realize that actually felt something for him. It was so much easier to say she hated him, that she despised everything he said and did. But in reality, she was just as captivated by him as any other girl, if not more. She wasn't distracted by things like his reputation or his place on the hockey team. She knew the real Derek, the one hidden from the public eye. And she'd be lying if she said their heated kissing in the past year had been nothing. In truth, she was sure that he would regret whatever happened between them and she didn't want to be another one of the girls like he'd had in the past. So she chose to cut him out of her life as best she could; to move away to a school on the opposite side of the city and stay away from the home they'd spent the last two years living together in.

She regretted staying away now, not only from him but from the house. She could've had more time with her mom and sister, with her step family too. Instead, she wasted the time she had left with a petty crush that would never lead anywhere. When she could've been spending a few dinners with them, immersed in their regular every-day talk. Conversations she would never hear again; laughter that would never ring in her ears any longer. It was all gone now; all in the past. She was stuck living a life without the four people who really mattered in her life. Where was she to go from here?

"You've still got me and Marti," Derek whispered, as if understanding her thought process.

How could he go from being such a mess the night before to being such a strong figure now? He was the one who had shown up at her door a wreck, who had sobbed on her shoulder and clutched at her. Now he held her, soothing away her worries and replacing them with reassuring notions. But was he just saying this to calm her down? He couldn't possibly be suggesting that he wasn't going to just leave her behind in the future? What were they going to do? Stay close, still consider each other step siblings and try and construct some kind of weird sister-brother bond? It wouldn't happen; she could never see him as a brother. He was the unattainable boy that had lived in the same house she did. Never a brother, never a sibling, never family.

"I know we aren't family," he said, lowly. "And we never will be," he told her, pulling back and looking down at her face. "But I'll always be there when you need me."

It felt almost surreal to hear the words coming from his mouth. His face was still riddled with grief, plain for all to see, but his eyes held a sincerity she had never seen before. He was truly promising to be there for her, no matter what the condition. She didn't know how to reply. She both wanted him there and at the same time, she wanted to push him away completely and fall into the pits of despair waiting to consume her. It would be so easy to just let herself fall, to forget about anything good in her life and just wither away in her depression. And yet he was staring right at her; a beacon of light through the darkness, promising that he wouldn't let her go if she let him help her.

Without words, Casey nodded, closing her eyes and leaning into him for a tight hug. Pulling away from him almost as quickly as she had embraced him, she rolled off the bed and inhaled deeply before wiping her face and walking out to see Marti. She heard him slip off the bed and the rustle of his clothing before she put on a fake smile and greeted the small girl laying on the floor.

"Casey," Marti exclaimed, jumping up and running over to her.

Picking the little girl up in her arms, Casey held her tightly. "Hey," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "Have you had breakfast?"

Shaking her head, Marti pulled back from hugging her. "I wanted to wait for you and Smerek," she told her, smiling. "Can he make us pancakes?" she asked.

Stepping beside them, Derek ran a hand over Marti's hair. "Sure," he told her, his lips trying and failing to pull into a smile.

Seeing the sun hit his face, Casey was startled at his appearance. His eyes were rimmed darkly with the effects of very little sleep, and his dark brown eyes themselves were bloodshot. Etched into his face were marks of sadness, marring his young features and making him appear much older. He stared at his little sister with such concern and adoration that Casey felt her chest lurch painfully. They stood there for a moment, Derek staring at Marti, Casey staring at Derek, and Marti glancing back and forth from them both.

"With whip cream?" she asked, grinning.

"Always," Derek said, swallowing and walking towards the kitchen.

Placing her on the floor, Casey ran her hand over the little girl's head and directed her back to the episode of Sesame Street playing on the TV. Walking over to the kitchen, Casey found Derek rooting through her fridge and pulling things out.

"I have pancake mix," she told him, leaning against the counter.

Shaking his head, he turned back to her. "I have a special recipe," he told her. "Given that pancakes are the only thing I can cook, I figure why waste a good thing." He attempted a smile, but ended up frowning before he turned around to find a bowl.

Pointing at the cupboard holding her plastics, she walked over to stand beside him. "Care to share the recipe?" she asked, looking down at the ingredients. "Pancakes are something I've never managed to master."

Staring at her for a moment, Derek nodded. After she grabbed a pan, he went through the ingredients and explained exactly how much he used and showed her how he always made them. After the ingredients had all been placed in the bowl, he told her to stir it. Finding she was rather slow and messy with the task, he placed his hand over her and tipped the bowl sideways, stirring it with her. Casey felt a small pinch of happiness when she noticed the beginnings of a smile of his face, but it slipped away when Derek glanced at Marti and his face became dark again.

It was unusual to see him so unhappy; he was normally grinning or plotting with his trademark smirk. It surprised her how much she had riding on whether or not he was happy; it affected how she feeling too. Even though he was being strong for her, she wanted him to show his real emotions. He stayed pretty quiet though, only speaking when spoken to, and never showing any sign that he really wanted to talk.

When the batter was ready, Derek showed her exactly how to pour it, making a cat head out of it for Marti. He pulled the whip cream out of the fridge and searched for the syrup. Pulling out a plate, he flipped the pancake onto it and drizzled it with the maple syrup lightly before using the can of whip cream to give the face a few characteristics. Consisting of eyes, whiskers, and a smile, Marti's cat pancake was just what she liked. Derek sat it down in front of her and watched her for a moment before returning to the kitchen.

Realizing something, Casey's eyes widened. "What's going to happen to Marti?" she asked, even though she knew he didn't want to talk about it.

Sighing, Derek poured more batter into the pan. "She's staying with me," he replied, keeping his eyes on the rising pancake.

"Staying with you," Casey reiterated, slowly. Stepping closer to him, she stared at his face surprised. "You're planning on raising her, aren't you?" she asked in a shocked whispered.

Clenching his jaw, Derek refused to answer.

"Derek," she said, shaking her head. "You're eighteen," she reminded. "You have a one bedroom apartment, you go to college, and you have a job as a waiter," she told him, reaching out and touching his arm. "You can't raise a six year old," she told him, softly.

Turning to her, he stared at her completely seriously. "Nobody is taking her away from me," he told her. "I'll drop out of college and go back later," he said, shrugging. "And I'll get a job that pays better."

"You can't get a better job unless you stay in school," she said, frowning. "And what about your business plan?"

"Marti's more important than that," he said, turning back to the pancake and flipping it.

Swallowing, Casey shook her head. "You can't do this alone," she told him. "Not only that but the Will might state that somebody else should take Marti."

"Then I'll fight it," he said, shrugging his tense back. Looking back to her, he exhaled loudly. "She's my Smarti," he told her, simply. "And I'm not losing her to some relative that isn't going to care about her." Shaking his head, he clenched his shaking jaw. "There is nobody alive that could ever love her as much as me. I can do this, Case. I can raise her." It vaguely sounded like he was pleading with her, as if asking for her to understand him. He wouldn't ask it of anyone else, but her opinion suddenly mattered to him.

Staring at him, she nodded slowly. "I know," she said, softly. "But you'll need help," she said, turning away and staring at the little girl as she ate happily. "I'll always be here," she told him. "For both of you."

Flipping a pancake onto a plate, he handed it to her. "I know," he said, nodding. Before she could walk away, he touched her wrist. "There are some calls we need to make," he told her, his eyes falling. "And we need to go to the hospital."

Nodding, Casey stared down at her pancake, vaguely noticing it was shaped like a heart. "When are we going to tell Marti?" she wondered.

"Later," he said, glancing back at her. "We'll go over to the house tonight," he said, nodding. "She can sleep in her own bed and I'll take the couch."

After Casey and Derek had moved out, George and Nora had turned the two bedrooms into one large master suite. The downstairs bedroom had been made into a mini gym that only Edwin visited; trying to look good for the ladies, he said. It would be too hard to stay in any of the other bedrooms in the house and Marti's bed was too small for more than one.

"I'll come," Casey said, nodding slowly. "I haven't been there in a couple weeks," she admitted.

Running his hand down her arm, he squeezed her elbow. "It's not like you could've seen this coming, Case," he reminded. "I have regrets too, but it doesn't change anything."

Nodding, Casey bit her lip.

Running his hand down her hair, he leaned in and kissed her temple. "Go eat," he told her, before walking back to the stove.

Surprised by the small act of intimacy, Casey glanced at him before joining Marti on the floor by the couch. She simply refused to eat at the table when Sesame Street was on and Casey had long past given up on trying to convince her the table was better for meals. Using her fork to cut up the pancake, Casey found herself staring at Marti as she sat swathed in her innocence and unknowing state. Part of Casey wished she could be so naive and safe in thinking that her mom and George were just at home. A long moment had passed before Casey was snapped out of her staring by Derek.

Passing in front of her, he sat down on the couch and wrapped his hand around her chin, turning her away. Shaking his head, he stared at her understandingly. His dark eyes were much more expressive than usual, free of their mischief but full of another emotion all together. Pressing her hand down to stab a piece of pancake, he motioned for her to eat.

Getting the message that she should try and act normal, she nodded and proceeded to place the pancake in her mouth. Finding a quick rush of flavor run over her tongue, she was surprised to find that Derek had actually made the best pancake she'd ever tasted in her life. Managing to eat the entire thing and a second one he slid onto her plate, she was surprised she had been so hungry.

After three episodes of Sesame Street had passed, Marti became restless and turned back to see what they were doing. Derek sat in the corner of the couch, his eyes staring at the pictures on the TV stand, while his hand absently played with Casey's long hair as she laid curled up on the couch beside him. Her eyes were unfocused as she was deep in thought.

"Smerek," she asked, staring up at him before she climbed into his lap.

"Yeah Smarti?" he asked, turning his gaze down to her.

"I thought you said when I woke up I would be in my bed," she said, shrugging her shoulders in confusion.

Clearing his throat, Derek glanced down at Casey who had now sat up and was staring at the little girl with wide, sad eyes.

"Wasn't it much more fun to wake up at Casey's, though?" he asked, trying to stall for time.

Nodding vigorously, Marti smiled at her step-sister. "Casey, do you like Smerek?" she asked, tipping he head.

"What?" Casey asked, her eyebrows lifting as her mouth dropped open a little.

Marti looked up at her brother who was also staring at her in a bit of surprise. "You guys were holding hands," she said, simply. "Like Dad and Nora always do."

Turning his eyes to Casey, Derek sighed. "Smarti," he began, picking her up and turning her to sit on his knee. "Casey and I were holding hands because we were helping each other through something," he tried to explain.

"Through what?" she asked, her legs kicking back and forth as they dangled.

Lifting his hand, Derek ran it over his face, not ready to tell her yet as he hadn't thought of how to explain it.

Leaning forward, Casey took his hand. "Sometimes people just hold hands," she told Marti. "We were really upset about something, so we held hands to make each other feel better."

"What were you upset about?" the inquisitive little girl wondered.

"Grown up things," Casey told her, nodding.

"Okay," Marti said, sighing. "But I still think you like Smerek," she said, before hopping off his lap and turning her attention to another episode of Sesame Street, which apparently was having a marathon.

Derek sighed, grateful that he hadn't had to tell her just yet. He needed a little more time; he didn't know how she was going to react and he couldn't handle her being upset. There were only two females in his life that he couldn't stand see cry and they were both in the room with him. Turning to Casey, he found she was staring at Marti with a soft expression, possibly one of envy. Derek felt it too, that need to feel anything but the pain that was throbbing inside of him.

Reaching out, Derek wrapped an arm around Casey's shoulder and pulled her against his side. He wasn't sure why he was being so comfortable with her, but if she wasn't complaining than he wasn't going to stop. It was a comforting feeling having her so close to him, and he seriously needed to have that. Even though they had a checkered past with each other, he knew she was really the only person who was going to be able to help him through everything. She wasn't in the best of states either, and it felt moderately redeeming to know that she relied on him to keep her going.

It crossed his mind that Marti was supposed to be in school but he figured missing one day wasn't going to be a problem. He did have to go to a late night hockey practice though and if he didn't attend, he could lose his place. Casey would most likely stay with Marti until he got back, but that didn't cover the rest of the year. Casey was right when she said he needed to stay in school. But how was he going to finish college with his six year old sister needing his attention. He was going to have to work out some kind of schedule that would make them both happy.

Feeling his eyes droop, Derek leaned his head back against the couch. Settling a little farther into the couch, he pulled Casey tighter before he drifted off to sleep. He found he wasn't restless when she was beside him, instead he dreamt of calming things instead of the horrific things that plagued his mind when he tried sleeping earlier that morning. His mind had twisted a scenario out of his family in the van, being hit and dying. It shook him how painful it felt and looked in his head, startling him awake every time. But with Casey near him, holding his hand or laying against his side, he slept peacefully. He didn't have time to really go through why it happened, and instead just accepted it.

He knew when he woke up he was going to have to make the phone calls he had spoken of earlier. He didn't know who he was going to call; there were so many people connected to his family. He also had to set up a time to visit the hospital and make arrangements for a burial. He had no idea how he was going to pay for it, but then knew he'd probably have to sell the house or something. It was all a painful load of his shoulders and he didn't know how he was going to manage it.

Hearing a distant sigh from Casey in his sleepy ears, he realized that he wasn't doing it alone. She was going to help him with everything, from Marti down to the arrangements of their family. He didn't want her to feel the burden he was, but he needed her help. Before completely falling asleep, he had a brief thought of how much easier it would be if he and Casey raised Marti together.

oTBCo

**A/N **_**I** know you guys really like this, from the huge and wonderful amount of reviews I received. **THANKS SO MUCH**! "What Happened to Happily Ever After?" is my first priority though. So while I'll continue to post to this story, it will only be after I've posted a chapter to the other story. Reviews always make me work faster, so if you review the other story I'll post more quickly and then have time for this story. Not to hint or anything, lol. Thanks for reading! Please review._


	3. o3o

**A/N:**_ I know I said I would wait, but I get so many great reviews for this story that I couldn't help but write another chapter. I've working on the next chapter for "**What Happened to Happily Ever After?**" So, don't worry, those of you who are reading it, I'll post chapter 4 soon. On with this story, enjoy..._

**For:** **_Ms. Amazing_** _and her great love for my stories_.

**_For Marti _**

o3o

Casey woke up to find herself comfortably lying against Derek's side. His arm was wrapped lazily around her shoulders. Yawning, she blinked her tired eyes and looked down to see Marti playing with the remote control. Slipping away from Derek carefully, she sat down beside the little girl and smiled. "What are you looking for?' she asked, motioning to the girls' channel surfing.

"Something with cats in it," Marti told her, nodding.

"I have a movie with cats in it, if you want to watch that," she offered. Standing up, she walked over to her DVD stand and rifled through the movies until she found, "The Aristocats." Putting it in the DVD player, she turned it on and walked to the kitchen to make a bowl of popcorn for them to enjoy. A few minutes later, she returned to see the movie just beginning.

Sitting down beside Marti, she place the bowl between them and tried to escape her lonely, depressive thoughts by letting her mind venture to the funny, musical movie that lit up her TV screen. Marti seemed to be in heaven, watching her favorite animals sing, dance, and joke merrily. Glancing at the clock, Casey noticed it was nearly two in the afternoon. Understanding that it was a Friday, she realized Marti should probably be getting out of school in just a half hour but had missed it completely. For the first time, Casey thought it harmless to miss a day of school.

Derek must have smelled the popcorn because he roused from sleep a few minutes later, looking around through heavy lidded eyes. His appearance, even with the extra sleep, hadn't picked up much. His eyes were still dark and red, and his face was still creased and worn. His clothes were also very rumpled and wrinkled. Standing up, Casey walked down the hall to the closet across from the bathroom and took out a towel. Walking into her room, she dug around in her closet for a pair of shorts she hadn't worn in almost a year.

Making her way into the living room, she held them out to him. "The shower is a little confusing, hot and cold are reversed," she told him.

Taking the towel and shorts from her, he stood up. Holding the shorts up, he cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not wearing some other guys' shorts," he said, frowning.

Casey was a little surprised at the edge in his voice, but shook her head. "Those are yours," she told him. "Or they used to be. You lent them to me a long time ago and I never gave them back," she explained.

Turning his eyes up, he thought back before nodding. Walking towards the shower, he turned back and thanked her.

"Put your clothes outside of the door, I'll do some laundry. Then you'll have something clean to wear before we go home," she told him.

Making the 'ok' motion with his hand, he closed the bathroom door behind him.

A few moments later, Casey saw his clothes land on the floor outside the door and walked over to pick them up. Throwing them into her small hamper of clothes, she grabbed the laundry soap and told Marti that she'd be back in a little while and not to open the door for anyone.

Taking the elevator to the first floor, she walked down the hall to the locked room of washers and dryers. Slipping inside, she put the hamper on top of a table and started separating the dark's and light's. Turning the clothes so they weren't inside out, she glanced up when someone else walked through the door. Going back to her task, she didn't recognize the girl who had slipped inside.

Casey stared down at Derek's shirt as she smoothed it out. Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered crying against his chest just the night before. He was being so good about things, even though he must be in such incredible pain. For some reason, she never imagined he'd be the one to take control of things if everything became messed up. She figured she'd be the one who kept it all together, and yet he was the one holding her from falling into tiny pieces.

Sniffling, she walked over to the washer and started putting the clothes inside.

"Bad break up with your boyfriend?' the unknown girl asked.

Looking up, Casey stared at her confused.

The girl, who looked to be in about her mid twenties, was tall, slim, and blonde. A wad of gum was between her teeth as she chewed it in a very unflattering manner. Her rather greasy hair was pulled up in a tight bun, but some of it stuck out in odd angles. Her clothes were disheveled, from her striped pink and yellow shirt, hanging off her shoulders, to her short shorts, a size too big for her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bug you. You were just crying when you were staring at that shirt. I assumed it was over a guy," she said with a shrug, the gum smacking between her teeth in a way that grated on Casey's nerves.

"Uh no," she said, shaking her head. "No, he," she said, holding up the shirt, "and I are fine. Just some family problems," she said, vaguely. She didn't feel like getting into it, not about Derek being her stepbrother, of which she wasn't really sure he was anymore. Or that their parents had been killed in an accident just the night before.

"Oh yeah," the girl said, nodding. "I know what that's like. Family, pfft, who needs them?" she asked, shaking her head.

Resisting the urge to glare at the girl, and possibly yell, Casey just continued with putting the clothes into the washer.

"So what's the problem?" asked the nosey girl. "They not paying for your college or sumthin'?" Tossing clothes into her washer, she didn't pay attention to their colour or if they were bunched up. "They ignore ya? Beat ya? Touch ya?" she asked, as if it was a normal conversation. Finishing with her clothes, she hopped on top of the closed top of the washer and put her money into it.

"My mom and step-dad wouldn't do anything like that," she half-shouted, irritated by the accusations. "They're kind, loving people." Feeling her cheeks become red and her shoulders stiffen, she turned away angrily. Moving faster, she just wanted to stuff all the clothes into the washer and run. "Why are you asking any way? Don't you think that's kind of rude?" she asked, shaking her head.

Banging her feet against the side, she tipped her head and stared at Casey. "Must've been sumthin' you did, right?" she asked, paying no attention to Casey's outburst. "So what happened? Did ya fail college? Lie? Do drugs?" Smirking, she ran her eyes up and down Casey's body. "Get pregnant?"

Putting her money into the silver coin holder, she pushed it in and packed her laundry soap into the basket and walked towards the door. Turning back, she glared at the annoying girl. "They died," she told her, her voice cracking. "Last night," she went on. "But hey, thanks for making the experience that much more enjoyable." Hurrying from the room, Casey ran to the elevator and covered her face as the door closed and her eyes began to tear up.

Making her way into the apartment, she hurried past Marti so she wouldn't see her tears. Dropping her basket on the floor of her bedroom, Casey sat down on her bed rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Though the girl was just being vicious and mean, she struck a chord with Casey. There were so many people who truly had horrible parents, whereas Casey had a great family. She had a mother who loved her dearly and a little sister who was incredibly smart and independent. She had a step-dad that, though he never really considered her a daughter, truly treated her like a great person. And Edwin, even though he wasn't her biggest fan in the beginning, had always treated her in a brotherly fashion. While other people had spent their lives wishing they had a family like Casey's, she had that family and she hadn't spent nearly enough time enjoying it and relishing in the fact that they truly were incredible.

Inhaling deeply, she shook her head trying to get her tears to stop. Feelings hands on her wrists, she opened her eyes to see Derek staring down at her with a somber expression. Momentarily distracted by the fact that he was only dressed in the long black shorts, her eyes fell on his bare upper half. Hockey had paid off for Derek, giving him a toned body. Shaking her head, she sighed, she shouldn't be looking over the obviously attractive sculpt of his body. Closing her eyes, she felt her cold lashes brush over her cheeks.

"What happened?" he asked, kneeling in front of her. "I've only been gone ten, maybe fifteen minutes," he said in almost teasing manner.

Shaking her head, she bit her lip, sniffling. Her arms lay in her lap, Derek was still holding her wrists, his thumbs brushing over her pulse point. Inhaling a shaky breath, she sighed. "I had a wonderful family," she told him, her voice breaking.

Nodding, he stared at her, waiting for her to go on.

"I never noticed that, Derek," she admitted, her shoulders beginning to shake. "I took them for granted every single day," she cried, mournfully. "I never once realized how great they were." Tears streamed down her face, leaving a cold trail behind them.

"Casey," he said, reaching up and brushing her tears away. "They knew you loved them, they knew you cared. It's not like they're angry with you for not bowing down and thanking them every day for being a part of their lives," he told her, shaking his head. "They were your family, so they knew how much they meant to you."

Swallowing the lump of emotion in her throat, she nodded slowly.

Standing up, Derek pulled her off the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist loosely. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he swayed her back and forth in a comforting hug. "Try not to think so much about any regrets," he told her.

Feeling droplets fall off his hair and splash against her neck, she shivered. Her arms wrapped around him, beneath his embrace and pressed into his bare back, holding him close. Leaning her cheek against his chest, she nodded. "How are you able to do this?" she wondered.

"Do what?' he asked, pulling back but still holding her, he looked down into her crystal blue eyes.

"You're being so strong through it all," she explained, staring up into his brown eyes and finding them still dark. "I know you're hurting Derek, you don't have to hide it from me." Reaching up, she ran the tips of her fingers underneath his eyes. "You look like you haven't slept in ages," she told him. "It hurts," she said, nodding. "But nobody is saying you have to keep us all together. You can feel it too."

Before Derek could reply, Marti burst into the bedroom and ran over to them. "Casey, Smerek, come sing with me," she asked, tugging on their clothes.

Casey looked up at Derek, hoping to talk to him more but he nodded to his little sister before picking her up and walking into the living room with her. While Derek sang the songs with Marti, after putting the subtitles on and reading the lyrics, Casey decided to clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes. She slipped downstairs awhile later to move the laundry into the dryer, she couldn't help but sigh in relief at finding she was alone and the rude girl hadn't come back.

Taking the stairs because the elevator was busy, Casey walked back into the apartment to find Marti sitting in Derek's lap and singing random words while the cats merely talked. Derek smiled down at his sister, enjoying her innocent behavior. After awhile, he started tickling her; Marti cried out excitedly and tried to squirm away unsuccessfully. In the end, Derek said he'd stop but only if she hugged him. One upping him, she wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug and kissed his cheek with a loud smacking noise. Laughing he embraced her, holding her tightly while they watched the rest of the movie.

Casey couldn't help but watch their interaction and come to a realization. Derek may be young, he may be in college and living as a bachelor, but when it came to Marti, he was really the only one who understood her. She always listened to whatever he said, even if it happened to be a humorous lie about what noises animals made. He always made her happy, no matter what her mood, and she managed to do the same for him. They were a team, Smerek and Smarti, and they just plain couldn't be broken up. She came to believe that Derek really would be the right person to raise Marti, even if there were a few kinks that needed working out. He was the best candidate, and she decided she really would do everything in her power to help him with his journey at raising a six year old.

After the movie ended, Derek sought her out in the kitchen. Slipping onto the counter, he watched her as she moved around putting dishes away. Emptying the sink of water, she rinsed it and placed the plug up by the handles. Looking up at Derek curiously, she waited for him to explain why he was hanging around her.

"I think we should tell her," he stated, noticing her impatient and curious stance in front of him.

Casey noticed how dark his face had become, riddled with sadness, plain for all to see. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Nodding, Derek hopped down. "Can't hide it from her forever," he mumbled. "As much as I'd like to," he muttered almost too low for Casey to hear. Reaching out, he took her hand and brought her back to the living room to sit on the couch. Wrapping his arms around his little sister, Derek picked Marti up off the floor and put her in his lap again.

Smiling, Marti turned to Casey. "Did you hear us sing?" she asked, giggling. "Smerek has a pretty voice," she said, nodding.

Trying her best to smile, Casey nodded, glancing at Derek.

"We need to talk to you, Smarti," Derek said in a serious tone. "About something that isn't good."

"Not good?" she asked, staring at him with a tipped head. "Is it why you and Casey are so sad?" she asked, reaching out and smoothing her hands over his face.

Swallowing, Derek nodded slowly.

"Don't be sad, Smerek," Marti said, leaning up and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Momentarily caught up in his emotions, Derek held her tightly and closed his eyes to stop the burning tears begging for escape. Running his hand over Marti's hair, he patted her back and nodded.

Pulling back, Marti tried to push his mouth up in a smile. "Be happy," she told him, nodding.

Taking her hands, Derek pulled them down and shook his head. Looking over at Casey, he silently asked her to help.

Putting her hands on Marti's waist, Casey pulled her down to a sitting position. "We need to talk to you about something that will make you very sad," she explained, slowly. "Okay?"

Nodding, Marti looked back and forth between Derek, who had a hand over his eyes, and Casey who was staring at her with watery eyes.

Casey took Marti's little hands and ran her thumbs over the top. "You know how Derek said you were going to wake up at home?" she asked.

Nodding, Marti looked over at Derek and then quickly returned her attention to Casey. "Derek said it was more fun here," she replied, talking of the earlier conversation when Casey and Derek almost had to admit what had happened.

"I know," Casey said, lifting her head up and down. "But there was another reason why you guys came here instead of you going home," she explained quietly.

Marti stared at her, mildly confused.

"You see," Casey started, blinking her eyes rapidly and letting go of one of Marti's hands to wipe her face. Inhaling deeply, she sighed heavily. "My mom and your dad, Lizzie and Edwin, they-" Shaking her head, she bit her lip for a moment. "They aren't with us anymore," she said, softly. "They've-" Her hands shook, causing Marti's to also. "Derek?' she asked, glancing at him.

Nodding, Derek looked down at his little sister with red, swollen eyes. "Smarti, do you remember when I explained what dying meant?" he asked, wrapping his hand around her small shoulder.

Marti slowly nodded her head. "You said my Mr. Snuffles, my gerbil, went to heaven," she said, frowning. "And that I wasn't going to see him anymore but that I'd always remember him. And he'd always remember me."

"Yes," Derek said, swallowing. "Well, last night dad and Nora took Ed and Lizzie out for their usual Thursday night thing, and something happened." Clenching his teeth, he closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he stared at Marti. "They died, Smarti," he said, quietly. "They've gone up to heaven now, and we aren't going to be seeing them anymore."

Shaking her head, Marti looked back and forth between Casey and Derek. "But dad told me we were going to the Zoo on Sunday," she said, crossing her arms. "And Ed promised me I could see the monkeys!" Her lip began to quiver and her eyes teared up. "I want to go home," she said, shaking her head. "I want to see daddy!"

Inhaling sharply, Derek lifted his hand and covered his eyes before leaning his head back and shaking it.

Reaching out, Casey pulled Marti into her lap. "Your daddy isn't at home anymore, sweetie," she tried to explain. "Nobody is at home," she told her, shaking her head.

"Where's Nora?" she asked, pouting. "I want to talk to Nora," she said, stubbornly.

Biting her lip, Casey blinked away tears. "My mom's gone too," she told her softly, trying to control the warble of her voice. "You've got Derek though," she explained, pointing at him. "Do you understand?"

Turning to Derek, Marti shook her head. "Smerek, I don't want daddy and Ed to go to heaven," she told him. "And I want Lizzie and Nora to come back too," she told him, crawling over and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Will you bring them back, Smerek?"

Derek let out a strangled cry as he sat up and moved Marti into Casey's lap. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can't bring them back," he told her, shaking his head.

"You're Smerek, you can do anything," she told him, nodding vigorously.

"No Smarti, I can't," he said, shaking his head. Standing up from the couch, Derek left the room, too overwrought with pain to realize he was causing the two girls' more hurt.

Walking to Casey's room, he closed the door behind him and crawled into her bed to try and sleep off some of what was pulling at him. He needed to get away from the darkness that was creeping its way inside of him and tearing at his every thought. Every breath hurt, every word he spoke burned his throat, every move of his body tore at him. He just wanted to dream it all away and pretend it never happened, he knew what was waiting behind his eyes though. All four of them trapped inside the van, unable to escape the painful, unstoppable death coming their way.

Casey sat on the couch, holding a confused and crying Marti in her arms. She watched Derek leave, understanding we he had to but wishing he hadn't. He wanted to be there for them, but it was too hard to show his pain in front of them or know they were hurting too. Looking down at the upset little girl, she ran her hands over his face and wiped away her tears.

"Is Smerek okay?" Marti asked, hiccuping.

Nodding, Casey rubbed her back. "Yeah, Derek's going to be alright. He's just really upset about everything."

"Casey?" Marti asked, rubbing her eyes with her fist and breathing quickly from her crying. "Can I go see my daddy in heaven?' she wondered.

Feeling her chest constrict, Casey shook her head. "No, sweetie," she told her. "I'm afraid you can't see your daddy for a long time. Only people who die can go to heaven," she said, feeling like her words were coming out rather harsh or unfeeling, but finding no others.

"I want to die then," Marti said, not realizing how powerful her words were.

"No you don't," Casey told her, biting her lip. "And don't ever tell Derek that," she told her, seriously. "Don't you like being here with me and Derek?" she asked, hoping her love for her brother would at least make her slightly happy.

Nodding slowly, Marti hiccuped through her tears again. "But Smerek wants to see daddy and Ed too," she said, pouting.

Casey's tears slipped down her cheeks, despite how hard she was trying to keep them back. "I know," she told her, nodding. "We all want to see them," she said, sadly.

Reaching up, Marti wiped Casey's tears. "It's okay," she said, standing up and hugging her. "You have me and Smerek," she told Casey. Patting her hair, Marti tried to soothe Casey.

Holding on to her, Casey rubbed Marti's back and cried against her small shoulder. After awhile, when Marti and her had both calmed down, she stood up and held her on her hip. "Do you want to come down with me to get the laundry?" she asked, sniffling. "We'll let Derek sleep for awhile."

Nodding, Marti leaned her head against Casey's arm and let her carry her on her side as she walked to out the apartment door and stepped onto the elevator. They reached the first floor and Casey walked down the hall into the laundry room, finding it empty. Putting Marti down on the table, she pulled the clothes out of the dryer and slipped them into the basket. Holding it against her other side, Casey picked Marti back up with one arm and cradled her against her hip.

Slipping back into the apartment, Casey found another movie involving cats and put it on for Marti to watch, to keep her mind off of things she still didn't quite comprehend. Creeping into her bedroom, she saw Derek sprawled out over her bed with his eyes shut. Quietly putting her clothes away, she folded his and put them down on the end of the mattress. Walking up the side of the bed, she stared down at his sleeping face, contorted in a grimace. Noticing his skin had broken out in goose flesh, she reached down and pulled her white fluffy duvet up over his body and rested it against his shoulders. Running her hand over his forehead, she brushed his hair off of his face. Noticing his face relax slightly, she sighed before leaving the room.

Taking the phone to the kitchen table, Casey took out her address book and rifled through it for the important numbers she needed to call. Inhaling deeply, she prepared herself for the conversations she was about to have. Deciding her aunt was someone important in her mother's life, she called her first. It wasn't a very long call, consisting mostly of sobbing before Casey told her that she would call when a service had been arranged. She didn't want to go into the details or explain how she was feeling to anyone. She called her father, leaving a message on the machine for him to call her back about urgent news. A few more aunts and uncles, and lastly her only living grandparent, took up a couple hours. She couldn't call any of Derek's family as she didn't have any of their numbers besides his weird aunt that lived nearby. She didn't want to encroach on his family business though, so she left it to him.

Finding herself drained of all energy, Casey laid her head down on her arm and stared at the phone. She still had to call the hospital and set up a time for her and Derek to come in and verify the bodies. Swallowing, she shook her head. She didn't want to think of how horrible it was going to be to see her family strewn out on silver slabs, cold and dead.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she glanced up at the clock to see that it was nearly six. Marti was lying on the couch, watching a cartoon on TV, her face no longer held the excited spark it had earlier. Pouring a can of soup into a pot and adding water, Casey turned on the stove and began working on a sandwich for Marti to eat. Grape jelly with the crusts cut off; Casey wasn't hungry, so she only made one sandwich. Putting it on the table, she coaxed Marti over to eat it at the proper dining area. When asked why she wasn't eating, Casey told her she had already had something.

Hearing the creak of her bedroom door, she looked up to see Derek, dressed in his clean clothes, rubbing his hand over his hair and staring over at them with blood shot eyes.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I'll make you some soup," she offered. He could eat an entire can to himself, so she'd have to make more for him.

Nodding, Derek made his way into the bathroom.

Puling out another can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup, Casey set the burner on high and pulled out some black forest ham, lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayo to make him a sandwich. Fixing it all up, she put it down on the table in front of him, while he sat staring at the phone and address book.

While they ate, Casey decided to take a shower and slip into some clean clothes. Walking into the living room, she spruced it up a bit and put the DVD's back in their rightful place. After doing the dishes, she sat down at the table where they were quietly waiting for her. "I figure we should head over to the house," she said.

"I've gotta go to hockey practice," Derek replied, clearing his throat.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" she asked, staring at him with concern.

"I can't lose my scholarship," he said, shrugging.

Nodding, Casey stood up. "Alright, I'll drop you off there and then bring Marti back to the house with me. Unless you want us to wait for you?" she asked. She didn't have a car of her own, given that she felt public transportation was far better for the environment.

"Practice is three hours," he told her, shaking his head. "Might as well take her home for awhile, and you could invite Emily over."

Nodding, Casey picked Marti up as she stood on the chair. She didn't appear to want to walk anymore, Casey could understand why Marti wanted to be close to her or Derek suddenly. She probably only picked Casey because she thought he wanted some space. They all walked out of the apartment, while Casey turned each light off and locked the door behind them.

Slipping Marti into the back, Casey sat down in the driver's seat while Derek slumped into the passenger's side and stared out the window. Putting his seatbelt on, he sighed with annoyance realizing that the seatbelt's his family had worn hadn't saved their lives.

The drive out to Derek's college was quiet, only interrupted by the low playing of music on the radio, which Derek promptly turned off. Glancing at him, Casey sighed at his fast becoming agitated demeanor. "I'm sure they'd understand if you didn't go in tonight," she told him.

"I don't want to tell them," Derek said, crossing his arms. "I don't want to be pitied."

Understanding, Casey nodded. "Do we need to stop at your apartment for your gear?" she wondered.

Shaking his head, Derek cleared his throat. "It's all at the rink," he told her. "Too heavy to bring home."

Taking the route to his school, she watched the people walking down the street, happy and unharmed by the realities of life. Pulling into the parking lot, she turned to him. "You're sure you want to do this?" she asked, staring at him. "Because, really, Derek, you don't look so great."

"I'll be okay," he said, undoing his belt. "I'm done at ten," he told her, opening the door. "But I likely won't be out here until about ten-thirty."

Nodding, Casey sighed. "Alright, I'll be here early, just in case," she said, shrugging.

Stepping out of the car, Derek closed his door and opened Marti's. Kneeling down on the ground, he ruffled her hair. "Be good for Casey," he told her. "I'll see you tonight, okay Smarti?" he asked, trying to smile.

"Okay Smerek," she said, reaching out and hugging him.

Pulling away rather quickly, Derek kissed her forehead and told her to watch her hands as he closed the door. Waving to Casey, he walked towards the rink, running into a few guys as he left.

Sighing, Casey pulled out of the driveway and began the half-hour drive to the house. Part of her was filled with an overwhelming dread. She didn't want to go back to see all of their pictures. To feel them all around her; their warmth, their happiness, their slowly dissipating lives.

Glancing in the mirror, Casey looked back at Marti who was staring out the window solemnly. Swallowing, Casey returned her eyes to the road and clenched her jaw. She couldn't imagine what the little girl thought of what was happening around her. Death is a very hard subject to explain to someone so young.

Derek obviously wasn't dealing with it well either. He was trying to be strong, to be the brave one who pulled them all through, but he was really only hurting himself. It was evident in his dark eyes and sullen face. His whole body slumped, as if he lost all reason to keep going. She had the urge to wrap her arms around him and make him cry, somehow, now matter what it took. He needed to get it all out, but he was trying to hold it in, ever since he broke down in front of her the night before. She could see how much damage it was already causing, and it was only going to get worse. Knowing Derek, it would likely come out in the form of fighting; with her.

oTBCo

_Hope you liked it. I got pretty teary eyed when they explained things to Marti!  
Please review_.


	4. o4o

_**For Marti**_

o4o

Derek waved to Casey and Marti in the car as he walked towards the front doors of the Campus hockey rink. A few of his teammates were walking over at the same time. They lifted their hands for a high-five in greeting. He tried his best to look happy that he was there, to play his favorite game of all time, but he found it hard to move his mouth in any fashion that wasn't a grim frown. Casey was probably right, he didn't have to go to practice. Upon looking in the mirror, he noticed he was in pretty bad shape.

Walking to his locker, he turned the combination word lock. Five letters to a name not easily forgotten: C A S E Y. He had picked up the lock shortly after she moved out of the house and he'd been missing her. At that time, he was coming to the realization that he had feelings for her. Only Sam knew that she was his step-sister, but he was pretty understanding about the whole thing. More understanding than Derek thought he would be, especially since they had dated in the past. The guys on the team bugged him about her, noticing the picture in his locker of her. It was rather odd that he only had two pictures hanging up that happened to be not only the two people that meant the most to him, but the only two females out of his family that were alive.

Pulling his gear out, Derek stared at the picture of his little sister, she grinned out at him, a tooth missing from her happy smile. A pink tiara sat on top of her head with assorted fake jewels glued to it. A purple feather boa was wrapped around her neck, hanging over her bright plum princess dress. A few strands of colourful, shiny beads hung around her neck and fake earrings were clipped onto her ears. A smile tugged at his mouth while he looked at her but was soon replaced with sadness, knowing he was the only real family member she had left. The only person who was alive to care about her for the rest of her life.

His eyes moved up, drinking in Casey in all of her adorable nature. The picture had been taken shortly before one of their heated fights, ending in a warm kiss that left him rather dizzy. Her hair was loose, having been taken out of a french braid it hung in soft waves down to the middle of her back. She was wearing simply pajamas but looked beautiful all the same, clad in pink silk pants and a black tank top. He had made a rude comment about her getting ready for a nightly visitor and she managed to come up with a scathing reply, he clicked the camera when she ran a hand through her hair and grinned at him in triumph. The picture came out looking like an entirely different story though, making her look more like she was giving him a saucy smirk and motioning to him sexily.

The first time his teammates had laid their sights on her, their eyes bulged with excitement. Numerous questions were asked, concerning whether or not she was his girlfriend and if they could meet her. A few comments about her looking ready for something Derek wasn't equipped for but they certainly were, had arisen, soon to be taken back in fear. Sam had noticed the picture with surprise, which is why Derek had explained things to him when they were out of ear shot of the rest of the team. His best friend was actually rather supportive of Derek possibly getting together with Casey, thinking it would be a good thing for Derek to have someone so steady.

Not even Casey's attractive and appealing actions in the picture could bring Derek out of his darkened mood however, so he quickly pulled his gear on and shut his locker with a sharp noise.

Sam's locker was next to his, he didn't know what had Derek angry though, so he got ready for practice while shooting uncertain glances at him. "You alright, bro?"

Derek glanced up at him, shrugging. "Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look terrible," he told him, shaking his head. "Like you haven't slept in weeks," he said, his eyes wide. "Something happen with Casey?" he wondered.

"You could say that," Derek said, pulling his jersey over his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Putting his stuff away, Derek walked down the hallway leading to the ice, holding his helmet in his hand tightly. Gliding out onto the ice, he started moving along with his teammates, pushing his helmet on and moving his stick across the frozen ground. Sam joined them all shortly after, casting unsure glances at his best friend until he became too caught up in practicing.

After two hours of drills, the coach called them in to separate them for a game. Derek was the center for his team, while the captain was playing opposite him. Feeling slightly exhausted, but needing to get his frustrated feelings out, Derek released his anger in the game. He body checked his opponents ten times harder than usual, shot the puck at a greater speed than he had before, and drove his body into overexertion.

Sweat poured down his body, his muscles contracted with pain, and his eyes burned with the need to cry that he continued to ignore. Every time someone came at him, a flash of a car hitting his parents played in his head, and he took the person down swiftly, hardly feeling the pain running through him each time. When he knocked a fellow player into the boards a little too hard, he managed to hit the glass himself, causing his teeth to rip his bottom lip open. Ignoring it and licking the blood away before his coach could see, he continued to play.

Finally, the game was over, Derek's team winning by one point in the end. Moving off the ice, Derek barely heard his coach shout out to him saying he was making a lot of progress and coming along nicely. Moving into the change room, after stripping off his gear, Derek leaned forward on his knees and covered his face with his hands. He felt the blood drip off his lip, falling to the ground. Getting up, he pulled his soaked shirt off and decided he need to take a quick shower.

A short while later, Derek strained himself even more while dressing in his regular clothes. Swallowing, he pretended his body wasn't aching all over. He almost liked the feel of it, reminding him that he was alive, but then hated the fact that he could feel while his family were stuck without corporeal bodies. They were all up in some place like heaven, or he liked to think so anyway.

Sam noticed his wincing face but made no comment, rather fearing how his anger was always released.

"Derek, my man," Drew called out, walking over. "That was a mean game you just played," he told him, grinning enthusiastically. "Listen, I'm having a party over in the dorms; lots of ladies, lots of beer, you interested?"

Thinking it over, Derek nodded. He needed to get his mind off things; Casey would end up going home after awhile anyway. If she was in the parking lot, then he'd just tell her he was going out then. If not, he'd call her later so she didn't worry. "Yeah, I'll be there," he said, standing up and pulling his leather jacket out of his locker.

Whistling at the picture of Casey, Drew grinned. "Is she busy tonight, or are you bringing her too?" he asked, pointing.

"She has plans," Derek replied sharply, closing his locker.

"Alright man, fly it solo. I'll see ya later," he said, walking away.

Derek glanced down at Sam. "Are you coming?"

Shaking his head, Sam pulled out a gym bag and slung it over his shoulder. "No, I think I'll head home, get some sleep. I've gotta talk to coach first though. I guess I'll see ya," he said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Derek replied. "Probably pretty soon, actually," he said, quietly. Sam would likely be turning up for the funeral, whenever it was set. Though he and Sam hadn't been hanging out all that much lately, things had been pretty hectic with school, work, and hockey, they were still incredibly close.

Derek waved as he made his way outside, a few of his teammates walking beside him. His car wasn't anywhere to be seen so Casey must not have shown up yet. Deciding not to wait, he followed his hockey buddies towards the dorms. Inhaling a deep gulp of air, he wished the dizzy, exhausted feeling would leave already, it was giving him a migraine.

The party was already booming when he arrived, apparently Drew had called ahead, telling his roommate to start everything up for when he got back. The entire third floor of the building was covered in activity; half dressed girls, and guys quickly drinking themselves into a stupor were running around.

Feeling a cold bottle pushed into his hand, Derek looked down at in anger for a moment; some guy from a party just like this had killed his family. Pulling up the bottle, he pressed it against his lips and guzzled the entire thing back swiftly. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to feel anything. He wanted to slip away into unconsciousness and never remember anything again. Another was pressed into his hand soon after, it wouldn't be long now.

o**_Casey_**o

Pulling into the driveway of the house, Casey stared up at it with apprehension. Marti hopped out of the backseat, running towards the front entrance. Opening her car door slowly, Casey locked everything up and made her way across the lawn to where Marti was waiting impatiently. Lifting her shaky hand, Casey stuck the key into the dead lock and turned it, moving it down to the handle lock, she unlocked it too. She didn't have to turn the handle as Marti already had.

Running inside, the little girl hurried towards the stairs and ran up. "Daddy!" she called out, her little feet taking the stairs quickly. "Nora?" she asked, loudly.

Casey followed after her, her throat closed off and her eyes prickling with tears. She found Marti opening their parents bedroom door and walking in. Making her way over, Casey watched as Marti searched all over the room; checking the closet, beneath the bed, under the covers and even behind the door.

Sighing, the little girl ran out with her hands on her hips. "Ed?" she shouted, running towards the attic door and up the stairs.

Swallowing Casey followed her up, letting her do things so she might better understand.

Marti tore the room apart, checking under every little thing and becoming frustrated with finding nothing. Hurrying back downstairs, she walked over to Lizzie's door and knocked before opening it. "Lizzie?" she asked, her voice now becoming shaky and upset.

Casey wiped at her tears as she stood outside of her sister's bedroom.

Marti pulled open the closet doors, finding nothing. Kneeling on the ground, she lifted the bedspread, searching out her step-sister and coming up empty handed. Scurrying from the floor, she ran past Casey to the now adjoined rooms formerly known as hers and Derek's. The exercise room had two closets, that Marti checked and then searched around each and every workout item, in hopes of finding them hiding somewhere. Pushing past Casey, she ran down the stairs and searched around the first floor, checking the living room, kitchen, laundry area, and the den. Finally, she collapsed on the couch and shook her head.

Casey sat down beside her, her arms crossed and her throat burning from keeping in her sobbing. "They're not here, sweetie," she said, softly. Reaching out, she ran her hand over Marti's hair. "They're gone and they aren't going to come back."

Shaking her head, Marti's eyes teared up and her lip jutted out in a pouting fashion. "Why'd they leave me, Casey?" she wondered, crossing her arms. "Did I make them mad?" she asked, tears spilling down her flushed cheeks.

Pulling Marti into her lap, Casey hugged her tightly and shook her head. "No," she said, inhaling shakily. "No, don't ever think that. You didn't do anything wrong," she said, nodding. "They loved you very much, Marti," she said, tipping her chin down to look at the crying girl. "They wanted to be here, they never wanted to leave you, but it wasn't their decision. Sometimes," she sighed, her tears falling down her cheeks without end. "Sometimes things happen that we can't stop," she explained, shaking her head. "But no matter what, they're always going to love you. Okay?"

Nodding, Marti buried herself closer to Casey, clutching at her shirt and pressing her tears against her shoulder. It wasn't long before the little girl had nodded of in Casey's arms. Walking upstairs, Casey slipped her into her bed and pulled the covers up around her. Kissing her gently, Casey slipped back downstairs and decided to call Emily to see if she could come over.

Her best friend walked through the unlocked front door and found Casey on the couch alone. Her knees were drawn up to her chest as her eyes continued to fill with tears. Rocking slightly, Casey started when she saw Emily staring at her in confusion. Sitting down beside her, the normally very spunky girl looked at her concerned.

Shaking her head, Casey reached out and wrapped her arms around her, sobbing against her shoulder. "They- They- They're gone," she cried, shaking her head.

"Who?" Emily asked, holding her tightly and patting her back.

"M-Mom, Liz-," she inhaled sharply. "-zie, Ed, and G-George," she replied, let it out in a long shuddering noise. "They were killed," she told her, her chest heaving painfully. "Drunk driver," she managed to choke out. "Oh God, Em," she cried, her grasp tightening. "M-Marti was at Derek's and he brought her- her over."

Emily nodded, lifting her hand to wipe at the tears falling from her eyes.

"And Derek just broke down, hugging me and sobbing," she continued, shaking her head as another round of sobs shook her body. "And I didn't k-know why," she said, her voice becoming high and anguished. "But then he told me, he- he- he told me that all of them were dead," she said, pulling back and running her arm over her face. "I couldn't believe it," she said, her voice shaking and her eyes still watering. "I just sat there on the floor with him, crying until I fell asleep."

"Where are they?" she asked, shaking her head. "Marti and Derek, I mean," she said, quietly.

"Marti's sleeping," she said, hiccuping and inhaling breath quickly and sharply. "D-Derek's at p-practice," she explained. "I- I- I have to pick him up at ten," she said, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

"Oh Casey," Emily said, pulling her towards her and wrapping her in a tight hug and crying herself.

They sat on the couch for hours, crying and hugging each other for some kind support. Emily offered to make her something to eat but she said she wasn't hungry and continued to cry quietly on the couch. Not a lot could be said to comfort her, since Emily still had her parents she couldn't really say anything that Casey could look forward too. All Casey knew was that she needed to hug someone, to feel someone hold them and tell them it would be okay. Derek wasn't there and she wasn't sure if he'd be entirely alright with her suddenly embracing him, even if he was being oddly comforting lately.

Awhile later, at five to ten, Casey asked Emily to stay and watch Marti while she left to pick up Derek. The kind girl offered to pick him up for her, but Casey knew he wouldn't be interested in seeing anyone waiting for him but her and said she'd be fine going.

Wiping her eyes, she sniffled and pulled out of the driveway, making her way out to the Campus across town. The drive seemed to pass by quickly and before Casey knew it, she was pulling up in front of the rink. It was nearly ten thirty, but Derek said he didn't usually get out until then anyway, so she figured she had awhile. When it was nearly eleven, she began to get worried and walked through the front entrance, hurrying through the halls to see if she could find him. Slipping into the boys' locker room, she ran straight into Sam.

"Hey," he greeted, smiling easily. "You do know that girls' aren't supposed to come back here, right?" he asked, teasing.

Swallowing, Casey backed out into the hall. "Yeah, sorry, I was just looking for Derek," she explained, running a hand through her hair.

Sam shook his head slowly, staring at her rather confused. "I didn't know you were picking him up," he said, shrugging. "Uh, he went to a party at the dorms," he told her, nodding.

"What?" she screeched, her eyes widening. "Are you serious?" Her hands lifted, digging into her hips angrily.

"Yeah," he said, half-smiling. "Not to pry or anything, but why exactly are you picking him up?"

Casey glanced up at him, her face lightening as it dawned on her. "He- He didn't tell you, did he?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Tell me what?" he asked, shaking his head.

Swallowing, Casey crossed her arms. "As you may have noticed, Derek isn't in the best of shape," she said, shaking her head.

"You've got that right," Sam said, frowning. "He nearly body checked everyone on the team, almost taking me out, and I was playing for him!" he said, shaking his head. "And he looked like a complete mess, I haven't seen him this bad since you moved ou-" Clearing his throat, Sam shook his head. "I mean, I've never seen him look this bad."

Nodding, Casey's eyes filled up again and she laughed angrily while lifting her hands to her eyes. "I'm so sick of explaining this," she said, her shoulders shaking.

Reaching out, Sam put a calming hand on her arm. "I don't want to make you upset, but I really have no idea what's going on," he said.

Nodding, Casey wiped her hands over her face, looking up at him. "Last night, there was an accident," she said, trying to keep her voice from becoming shaky. "Marti was over at Derek's, but everyone else was out for their regular Thursday night thing," she went on, sniffling.

Sam's eyes lightened, his mouth opened slightly as he was beginning to understand.

"There was this drunk driver leaving one of the many campus parties," she said, bitterly. "And George, my mom, Lizzie, and Edwin, happened to cross his path," she finished, closing her eyes. "They didn't make it," she said, her voice a whisper.

Dropping his bag, Sam wrapped his arms around Casey, running his hand up and down her back as she cried against him. "Well that explains Derek," he said, nodding.

Pulling back, Casey ran her hand over her face, inhaling deeply. "I need to find him," she said, nodding. "He's not thinking straight and I think he's going to do something stupid," she admitted, shaking her head and sniffling.

Nodding, Sam grabbed his bag and walked her to the doors. "Follow my car, I'll lead you to the dorms," he said, hurrying to his blue '65 Camaro.

Making her way over to Derek's car, Casey slipped in and wiped her eyes. Pulling out, she kept behind Sam's car as he drove out of the parking lot and over a couple blocks, parking in front of a tall, wide, eight-floor building. Hopping out, Casey locked her door and walked to the front, seeing Sam hurry over. "What floor?" she asked.

"Third," he replied. "It's Drew's party, so it's bound to be out of hand," he warned.

Nodding, Casey reached for the handle. "I can handle him," she told him. "You can go home," she assured.

"Alright," Sam said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Tell him to call me tomorrow," he asked her, walking backwards to his car.

Inhaling deeply, Casey made her way inside and up the stairs. Running into drunk kids, half dressed and making fools of themselves, she rolled her eyes. Her feet crushed party foods under her feet, the noise grated on her nerves almost instantly. Passing by numerous couples making out, Casey glared at the elevator filled with a couple taking up the entire floor. Hurrying up the stairs, she ignored the hands that managed to touch her in places worth a slap across the face.

Finally reaching the third floor, she sighed with relief. Pushing past people, she looked in open doors, searching for him all over. Seeing a few people she vaguely recognized, she noticed they were the guys that had met with him outside of the rink. She considered asking them where he was, but their leering eyes stopped the idea immediately. Passing another room, she almost kept going, but then she heard his laugh. Backing up, she lifted her hands to her hips and stepped in.

"Hey," a loud voice called out. "Derek, I thought you said she was busy tonight," some guy shouted, pointing down at her.

Casey looked up a the boy confused, stepping away quickly when he grinned at her in a suggestive manner. Pushing her way through the rest of the people, she stopped in front of Derek, sitting on a chair and holding a half empty beer. A cheery blonde sat on one of his legs, one of her hands buried in his hair and the other trailing a finger across his neck.

Turning to the girl she gave her a very nasty glare. "Off," she said, sharply.

"Uh, I don't think he wants that," she said, leaning up slightly and glaring back at her.

"I'm completely sober, you're half drunk, who do you think is going to win in a fight?" she asked, lifting her brow in annoyance. She didn't really care that he had a girl on his lap, but it would make it a lot harder to drag him away or talk to him with someone else around.

Huffing, the girl slipped off his leg and stumbled over to some other guy.

"If you're going to scare my entertainment away, at least replace it," Derek said, pulling her over and placing her where the other girl had been. Lifting the beer, he tipped his head and guzzled it back.

Pushing it out of his hand, she smiled when it clattered to the floor.

Sighing, Derek looked over at her with glazed eyes. "You're being no fun," he said, lazily.

Shaking her head, she felt an overwhelming anger surge inside of her. "And you're being a real asshole, you know that?" she asked, grimacing.

"Oh, little Casey swearing," he said, smirking. "How out of character," he said, shaking his head. "Then again, you tend to be that way around me, don't you?" he asked, his eyes half closed. "Fighting with me and then kissing me senseless. Letting me comfort you last night and hold you this morning. Those aren't normal Casey things, are they?" Shaking his head, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "No, usually you would've slapped me by now." Laughing with self pity, Derek ran his hand up her back. "You haven't even flinched while sitting in my lap. This is a real record, Case. How much longer do you think it'll last?" he wondered.

"This is the reason nothing ever went past our kissing," she replied, glaring at him. "You always manage to turn into a jerk at the worst time," she said, sighing.

"I think I deserve this," he replied, his temper seemingly under control. "After all, my dad and brother died," he reminded. "Why not let me drink myself away for a night, huh? Just one fucking night," he said, his voice beginning to rise. "One night where I don't have to think about how it must've felt for him to see that car coming at him. One time where I can sleep without dreaming of them all screaming and dying," he went on, swallowing.

His friends must've heard him now, as they had all become somber, turning to watch their teammate as he went on about his dad and brother, while staring at the roof and half yelling at her.

"Can't you just let me have that, Casey?" he asked, sitting up and moving his face near hers. "I promise I won't do anything stupid," he told her, his face so close his eyelashes were actually brushing over her forehead. "I'll only sleep with a couple girls," he said, smirking. "Drink until someone has to rush me to the hospital. And maybe, just maybe I'll choke on my own vomit." Laughing with his eyes tearing up, he pressed his face against hers. "If I'm lucky," he said, quietly.

Lifting her eyes as tears began sliding down her cheeks, Casey shook her head. "Fuck you, Derek," she said, through gritted teeth.

Running his lips up her face, he brushed them near her ear. "Any day, Case," he whispered.

Turning around, she slapped him hard across the face.

"No Guinness World record for you," he replied, not even grimacing.

"I'm calling Sam," she told him, shaking her head and walking to a phone.

"Oh sure," he said, picking up his fallen beer. "Call the Saint up, I'm sure he'll help you pick up your- what the fuck am I to you, anyway Case?" he asked, going off subject and guzzling his beer.

Ignoring him, she dialed his number and quietly asked him to come back and help her. Seeing as he had waited awhile before leaving, he wasn't far and told her he'd be there soon.

"So, is your super ex going to come and drag big, bad Derek home?" he asked, smirking. "Because, really, I'd love to see him try," he said, nodding. Turning the beer up, he kept his eyes on her as he took another swig.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, shaking her head. "You were alright this morning," she said, sighing. "At least, you weren't this destructive or angry."

"Things change," he said, slumping in his chair. "One minute you're alive, the next you're not. One moment you think the girl of your dreams cares, the next she's slapping you. This morning I was still reeling from it all, now I've accepted that my little brother and father are dead. That I'm left raising a six year old girl all by myself, and that you're going to bolt as soon as you get the chance," he said, leaning his head back.

Casey ignored the crowd of people that had stopped partying and were now watching their interaction. Walking over to him, she kneeled by his side. "I told you," she said, shaking her head. "I told you I'd help you with Marti. I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

"You say that now," he replied, sighing. "But you have college too, Case. You've got a job and all that homework to do. You don't have time for a six year old and her bastard of a brother." Shaking his head, he lifted his beer but found it empty, so he dropped his hand and let the bottle fall to the floor.

Shaking her head, Casey reached up and tipped his head down to her. "Listen to me, Derek," she said, rather sharply. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him, staring into his eyes. "I'm going to be right there helping raise Marti the entire time!" Standing up, she took his hands. "You, on the other hand, you're leaving this party," she said, nodding. "And you're not going to another one until you've gotten yourself some help. Because there is no damn way that I'm coming back here, dragging your sorry ass out again."

Sam broke through the crowd then, looking back and forth between Derek and Casey.

"Oh look," Derek said, glaring at his friend. "It's Sammy boy," he said, grimacing. "Come to save the day," he said, shaking his head.

"Come on Derek," Sam said, walking towards them. "I think it's time we left," he told him, nodding.

"No, you know, I think maybe it's time you two left and I stayed to finish what I started," he said, pulling his hands from Casey's.

"Not tonight," Sam said, shaking his head. "I think tonight, you're just going to go home with Casey and sleep it off."

Snorting, Derek shook his head. "Wouldn't you much rather go home and sleep with Casey? I know she doesn't want me in bed with her," he said, running his hand over his face.

"Derek," Casey said, sharply, her eyes thinning. "Stop being a bastard and just come back with me."

"What a warm sentiment, but I'd really prefer not," he said, reaching for another beer, sitting on a bed, unopened.

"I could knock him out," Sam offered. "It wouldn't take much, maybe one really hard punch to the face."

"You wish," Derek said, snorting.

Shaking her head, Casey walked over to him, staring down into his face. "You know what Marti did when I took her home?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Derek stilled in his motion to lift his beer and glanced at her. A moment later he turned his eyes away and continued to drink.

"She ran through every room of the house, looking everywhere for her family," Casey continued. "She checked under beds, in closets, under the couches, everywhere." Inhaling deeply, Casey bit her lip. "She called out for them, hoping they'd respond but obviously they couldn't."

Derek knocked back half the beer, his eyes closing and his free hand curling into a fist.

"She asked me if she had done something wrong, if it was her fault that they were gone," Casey said, her voice wobbly. "And I told her it wasn't, that they loved her and they always would." Sniffling, she wiped her hands over her cheeks furiously. "Do you have any idea what she's going to do when she realizes you're not there?" she asked, her foot tapping to keep her mind off of crying.

Whipping his hand back, Derek threw the bottle at the far wall, unflinching when it smashed all over. Crossing his arms, he glared ahead, his eyes only reaching Casey's stomach. "Leave," he said, fiercely.

Throwing her arms up in defeat, she glared at him with watery eyes. "My pleasure," she said, turning on her heel and stomping out of the room. Pushing her way through the people around her, she hurried down the stairs and into Derek's car. Waiting for it to warm up a bit, she made her way back to the house.

It wasn't long before she pulled into the driveway, relieving Emily of her duty. Waving goodbye to her friend, Casey walked around the house, turning off lights and feeling chills run down her back at the emptiness that surrounded her. Crawling onto the couch, she pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes. She didn't want to venture anywhere else, keeping clear of the places that reminded her most of her family. Feeling tears burning her eyes, she shook her head and begged a dreamless sleep to take her away.

**

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**

**A/N**_ I know, I know, I'm terrible. I will get to **"What Happened to Happily Ever After?"** I swear! It's just, I've been overcome with writing this story, I just can't help but write it. Likely because it's so angry and sad, whereas **"W.H.T.H.E.A?"** is more funny and ligth hearted, at least for now. It gets pretty sad and dark around the middle - what with the crisis and all._

_Also, to those of you who might think I'm a guy, I'm really not. lol. I'm a girl, wholly and completely. My name is actually a tribute to my best friend, who was actually killed in an accident by a drunk driver last September. God rest his soul. Just thought I'd clear that up for you though._

_Please review, I really, really appreciate it._


	5. o5o

**_For Marti_**

o5o

Derek stared at the area in front of him as her form slowly disappeared from his vision. There was an urge somewhere deep down, screaming at him to reach out and pull her back. To go after her, let her take him home, and beg for forgiveness in the morning. But he was too damn stubborn for that, he wasn't going to start acting like a sap now, especially not in front of all of his hockey buddies. His breathing was heavy, causing his shoulders to shake painfully. He realized his hands were curled tightly, releasing them he found that his short nails had bit into his skin, breaking through to let a small line of blood out in four spaces over each of his palms.

"Could you be any more of an ass?" Sam asked, crossing his arms and glaring down at his best friend.

"Stick around and find out," Derek replied, his eyes darting up to his best friend with fury.

"She's just trying to help you," he said, shaking his head. "She doesn't have to, Derek. And the more you keep treating her like this, the less likely she's going to stay around."

"Good," Derek said, standing up and ignoring the rush that swarmed his head. "Maybe I don't need her." Pushing his way out of the room, he used the wall to steady himself as he made it to the elevator. Finding a couple up against the wall, he rolled his eyes and stood as close to the closing doors as possible. The moment he thought he was free, Sam's arm jutted through the small space and joined him on the elevator.

"Did you really think I was going to let you walk around the city, completely drunk and angry?" he asked, sticking his hands into his pockets.

"I was going to head back to my apartment," he replied, glaring.

"Aren't your keys on the chain Casey has for your car?" Sam wondered, lifting a brow in question.

Cursing under his breath, Derek crossed his arm. "Well, maybe I'll find a nice girl to take me home then," he said, trying to smirk.

"No, you won't," Sam said, sighing. "The only nice girl you want to go home with just ditched you."

"Do you have to be Mr. Observant, right now?" he wondered, turning his head a little sharply, causing a ringing noise to fill his ears. Closing his eyes tightly, he used his arm against the wall to steady himself. "I don't need your help," Derek gritted out. "Not yours and not hers."

Letting out a deep breath, Sam turned to him, shaking his head. "Look D, I know you're pissed. You have every right to be, I mean, after what happened to your dad and brother-"

Derek rammed him up against the wall, his hand pressing into his shoulder and his face clenched in anger. "Stop talking," he warned, his voice low.

Sam lifted his hands, placing them on Derek's shoulders before pushing him to the other side of the elevator, pinning him to the wall. "You're really drunk right now, maybe if you were sober you could kick my ass, but right now you're pretty damn weak."

Shaking his head, Derek smirked. "You know me, Sammy-boy, I'm never weak," he said, kicking his leg out and wrapping his arm around Sam's neck before watching him fall into Derek's headlock. "Let's get a few things straight right off," he said, staring down at his best friend as he struggled to get out. "We don't talk about what happened with my family; ever. You don't bring up what goes on between me and Casey; ever. And you never call me weak; ever." His eyes lowered, the simple brown colour darkening. "It'll make this friendship a whole lot easier," he said, letting him go and walking out the open elevator doors.

Gasping for air on the floor, Sam scrambled up, chasing after him. "No," he shouted, shaking his head. "No, we're going to talk about your family, because guess what Derek?" Walking closer to his friend's now still body, his back turned to him, Sam kept some space, for fear of being punched. "They're gone," he stated. "And no matter how much you drink, that pain isn't going to suddenly stop."

Sam cringed when he noticed Derek's shoulders stiffen and his hands curl, but he continued. "And what you have with Casey, it's confusing; I get that. You fell in love with her, knowing you shouldn't. Knowing that she would continue to push you away." Nodding, he took another step closer. "As sad as it sounds, this is your chance. She's finally letting you in; she's not screaming at you. Even upstairs, she was only looking out for you." Sighing, he crossed his arms. "But you're just giving her reason to run now, D. You're pushing her away, when all you've wanted for this past year and half was to tell her to stop running away."

Taking another step closer, he kept his eyes on Derek's back, gulping. "Now you have two choices," he said, nodding. "One, you walk out of here, pick up some girl and stay at her place. Tomorrow, you go back to the house, take Marti away from Casey, and try living on your own, without anyone's help. You push everyone who's trying to help you away, and you raise a six-year-old while trying to be a normal eighteen-year-old boy." Reaching out, he placed a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Or two, you let me take you back to your old house. You apologize to Casey and let her help you. Figure everything out and raise Marti with the help of your friends and Casey, whatever she may be to you."

Derek's head tipped back, his eyes burning and his throat closed off. "I can't do this," he admitted, shaking his head. "I can't do any of this," he said, sighing. Turning around, he stared at Sam, his eyes red rimmed and face curled in anger. "How am I supposed to take care of her, Sam?" he half-shouted, while lifting his hand and pointing at himself in question. "She's going to ask me, every day, where everyone else is. She's going to have to go through all of those great big moments in her life, wondering where her dad is to see her grow up. She's going to need someone to love her, and- and- to give her a real, normal life." Lifting his hand, he ran it through his hair in frustration before groaning. "And all she's going to have is this fucked up brother of hers, the guy who screws everything up with everyone who ever mattered."

"That's not true," Sam said, shaking his head. "Yes, Marti is going to need someone who loves her, but come on, Derek. There is nobody who loves that little girl more that you, and you're her hero. You could shred her princess dress and she'd think you were doing her a favor!" he said, his eyes wide and a smile tugging at his mouth.

Nodding, Sam stuck his hands in his pockets."And she might ask for awhile, she might be confused and wonder where they are and what she did wrong, but she's always going to have you. She's always going to know that you're there to help her through it. You're there to hug her and tell her that she's not alone."

Sighing, he shook his head, staring at him. "And you're not fucked up, D. You're just really upset, which is alright. Nobody is telling you that you can't cry. Nobody is saying that you have to be strong for everyone."

Swallowing, Derek shook his head. "But Casey-"

"Is a strong person," Sam interrupted. "If she weren't, she wouldn't be the one who came in trying to drag you home. Yeah, she's going through a lot right now too, which makes it even more important that you don't completely leave her to deal with everything on her own. But as much as you think she needs you to be strong, she's trying to be strong for you too," he told him, nodding. "You both lost people; you're both completely messed up right now. But if she didn't care, she would've left you alone. Instead, she waited around and came looking in the boys' locker room for you. She wouldn't just let you party because she was worried you were going to do something stupid, which you did."

Crossing his arms, Derek looked away.

"Now what's your choice?" Sam asked, pulling his keys out. "Because if we keep talking like this, I might do something uncool like hug you," he said, shaking his head.

Snorting, Derek glanced at him. "I don't swing that way, Sammy-boy," he said, smirking. "I always wondered why it ended between you and Case, though."

Rolling his eyes, Sam shook his head. "We weren't right for each other," he said, shrugging.

"Because she's female," Derek bugged, nodding.

Shoving him, Sam glared. "Any more insinuations, and I'm leaving you here," he said, walking to the door.

"No, you won't," Derek said, chasing after him and smacking him upside the head. "You're too weak to leave me behind," he said, walking toward the gleaming Camaro.

The drive back to the house was quiet; Derek turned his face against the headrest, staring out the window. His arms were crossed over his chest loosely, slipping down slightly as his eyes drooped through his tired demeanor. "Sam," he grunted.

"Yeah, D?" he wondered.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" he wondered, his eyes closing.

"Yeah," he replied, sighing. "I'm sure she will."

"Good, because she's really hard to deal with when she's pissed," he said, a small smirk lifting his mouth.

Chuckling, Sam turned down the street the Venturi/MacDonald home resided on. Pulling in behind Derek's car, he stared out at the dark house. "She might've gone to bed," he said, glancing back at Derek.

Sighing, Derek pushed the car door open and stretched.

Sam stepped out and leaned against his car, facing him over the hood. "You gonna be okay?" he asked.

Nodding, Derek closed the door and yawned. "I'm gonna crash, wake up in a few hours to a massive hangover, take a trip to the hospital -not because I need my stomach pumped, but because we have some business there-, and then maybe I'll call dad's lawyer, figure some stuff out."

"Don't forget to talk to her," Sam said, nodding.

Sighing, Derek glanced over at the door. "Yeah I'll fit that in somewhere between throwing up and verifying the bodies," he replied grimly.

Walking around the car, he clapped hands with Sam in a handshake. "Thanks, for you know... stopping me from being an ass," he said, looking down at the ground.

"It was hard since you're so good at it," Sam said, smiling. "But after the years, I've perfected a technique."

Nodding, Derek lifted a brow. "Was that what that was when you were laying on the floor in a headlock?" he asked, sarcastically.

Rolling his eyes, Sam climbed into his car. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

Smiling, Derek waved goodbye before turning around and finding his face fall completely. Suddenly, a wave of pain ran through him, he had the urge to just turn and run. Casey would take care of Marti; they would do alright. He could just leave town, leave the province really. Maybe make his way down to the States, escape the overwhelming hatred and anger he was swamped with. Get away from the tears that always seemed to be prickling at his eyes, the nightmares eating away at his mind, the two girls that relied on him.

It took him a long while before he was finally able to make his way into the house, he simply stared at it, taking it all in. Noticing that the van wasn't parked in its usual spot, that the light that usually brightened Nora and his dad's room wasn't on. Even the porch light was flicked off, whereas in the past, Nora had normally left it on. He vaguely noticed the lawn needed to be cut, his dad must not have noticed or he would've called him over and offered him some money to do it. He'd seen Edwin try, but the kid just hadn't built himself up enough to get through mowing the whole lawn, which is probably why he spent so much time in the exercise room, trying to bulk up.

Making his way up the steps, he wasn't surprised that the door was locked. Checking under the welcome rock by the stairs, he pulled out the extra key, letting himself in. Closing it behind him, he turned the lock quietly, surveying the dark area around him. Kicking his shoes off, he slipped upstairs, stopping at Marti's door. Pushing it open, his movements stilled when it creaked. She didn't wake up, so he pushed it quickly and walked through to kneel beside her.

Her little chest rose and fell with each breath, she was still wearing the pajamas she had on when staying over at his apartment. Her dark bangs sat over her forehead, reaching half past her eyes, needing to be cut. Reaching out, he brushed the strands of hair off her face. She looked rather troubled while she slept, likely because it was becoming clear now that he and Casey were the only one's she had left. What luck, she gets stuck with the two siblings that fight constantly. Then again, it wouldn't work out well if Edwin was the one trying to take care of her. She'd be moved to a foster home or have to stay with some aunt she didn't like.

Leaning in, Derek pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm never going to leave you, Smarti," he whispered, before standing up and pulling the covers higher. Running his hand over her hair, he slipped out of her room and took a walk around the quiet, dark house.

Pictures on the walls stared out at him, tons of when he was just a little boy. With his red-brown hair in ridiculous styles and his clothes in complete disarray. There were a few of him with his mom, her sitting behind him with a barely-there smile as she posed gracefully for the picture. While he grinned excitedly, a lopsided cowboy hat on his head and a drum hanging around his neck on a band, as he beat away on it.

His eyes ran over the large framed memories, watching himself grow up. From the little boy hanging over his dad's shoulder, missing a tooth, to the smirking teenager that was too cool to hug his old man. From the awkward looking ten-year-old, with his arm around his five-year-old brother, to the sixteen-year-old boy instilling fear in his young predecessor.

He watched as they ranged from his dad being a young father, swinging Derek around and patting him on his little head, to teaching him how to ride a bike while he rode his own into the garbage cans. From sending him off to school for the first time, to giving him a noogie in his teenage years. All the moments where George was being a normal, kind father seemed to rush to Derek's mind. The way his voice sounded when he was happy or thought something was funny, to the pitch it took when yelling that Derek better not have done what he told him not to. The way his face lifted so dramatically when he smiled at Nora, or how his eyes seemed to light up whenever everybody seemed to be getting along. Suddenly, Derek was overwhelmed with the need to hug his dad, to tell him he was sorry for being such a jerk to him while he was growing up. To apologize for never listening and not trying harder to be a better son. Looking away, his eyes washed over the rest of the photos around him.

Derek stopped to stare at a photo of Edwin when he was just four years old, with his ruffled brown hair and wide, curious eyes. He was wearing a baseball hat that had belonged to Derek. One of his eyes was closed because of the sun and a hotdog sat in his hand, the toppings had all slid down to the end, falling to the ground. His other hand waved at the camera, a bright grin adorned his face. Reaching out, Derek ran his hand over the picture of his little brother. Then his eyes fell on another, one much more recent. Edwin was wearing an army green jacket, his arms crossed and his head tipped to the side while he smirked. He'd turned into a ladies man without much schooling from Derek, soon becoming the coolest kid in his grade. His hair was gelled in a spiky mess, adding to his new persona. He'd really grown up over the past few years, he wasn't as cocky as Derek, but he had his own humor, perfected over his life. He was smart too, but it didn't diminish his popularity like it might Derek's. The kid had always been good with computers, but never had the geek label on him.

Sniffling, Derek stared at his little brother awhile, trying to memorize every single picture. Trying to remember every word he said and every moment he so much as breathed. He thought back to conversations they had, locking his words in his mind for safekeeping. He ran through the flashes of him when he was just a baby, of every year of his life leading to now. Thirteen and he was gone, he would never lend Derek money again or tell him of some much more brilliant scheme he thought up. He'd never tell Derek about the new girl in his class, listing the reasons she was a babe. He'd never ask for advice on how to approach his latest crush, or trail behind him asking if he could be part of Derek's new business venture.

There was a wide array of photos of him and Marti, many when she was a just a baby and Derek was holding her safely in his arms. Were he not so young, he's look like a proud father. A simple, happy smile had settled on his face as he held the sweet little baby girl, with her sparkling blue eyes and patch of dark hair. Her tiny hand wrapped around Derek's finger in one and he laughed, excitedly in the picture. Then there were the ones as she got older, when she was two and wearing one of his t-shirts. It was giant on her, puddling on the floor beneath her feet. The sleeves that only reached the middle of his bicep, came to her fingertips. There was a couple of her on her first day of school, holding a picture she made of her and Derek that really didn't resemble anything understandable. Another recent picture of when he picked her up for their Thursday night bash, he was swinging her around in the air above his head, grinning at her while she squealed in excitement. Then the normal lazy pictures of the two of them, sitting on the couch while she snuggled against him. Or sleeping in his chair, with her fast asleep against his chest. The two of them had always been practically inseparable while she was growing up, when he wasn't busy being Mr. Popular, at least.

Then there were the ones that had been put up after the merging of the two families. One with just Lizzie, Casey, and Nora, looking prim and proper in their clean and crisp outfits, smiling sweetly from the frame. Various ones with Casey when she was just a little girl with pigtails and a big smile, teeth missing in numerous places. A couple of Lizzie when she couldn't have been more than three, with a flowery bonnet on her head that she tugged at with annoyance, and big neon sun glasses on her face. One where Lizzie and Casey were holding hands, dressed up with frilly dresses and waving at the camera with big smiles, they were young then too, only around ten and five.

The pictures taken with the Venturi/MacDonald family together were on the wall across from the one's he'd been enjoying. Turning, his eyes took in the wedding picture of his dad and Nora; he'd never seen George so happy before. There had been a few family pictures taken over the years, three with him and Casey and one without them, simply because they had been busy during the current year and were unable to get there. George and Nora stood in the back, his arm around her shoulders while her hands were clasped in front of her. Lizzie stood in front of her mother, with Edwin beside her, ahead of George. Then little Marti stood in the front, her arms clasped behind her back and a big grin on her face; she always loved having her picture taken.

The wall was covered in pictures of various things; Edwin and Lizzie playing soccer in the backyard or Marti in her princes dress, running around with her wand and granting wishes. Another with her making potions out of Casey's makeup and bathroom stuff. There were a few of Nora trying to clean off Marti, who was covered in grape jelly while wearing a yellow sun dress over her bathing suit, since they were about to go out to the beach. Nora's hair was frazzled and her face was pinched with mild irritation, but a smile was tugging at her mouth at Marti's appearance.

A couple pictures from a B.B.Q. that occurred a few weeks prior had even been hung up. Derek was dressed in a white apron that said, "Kiss the Cook!" and Casey stood beside him, telling him how she wanted her tofudog cooked. His arm was around her shoulders and he held the tongs up near her face, as if he was going to pinch her nose. She was laughing though, in good nature, while he had a genuine grin on his own face. There was a picture taken of the entire family sitting at the picnic table, it was supposed to be of before they had eaten, but Derek had a rib held against his mouth when the flash went off.

Vacation photos from the summer before stared out at him, one of the best times they had together. Nora and his dad were sitting on towels, looking through the cooler for something to eat and drink. A tall umbrella shaded them from the hot sun. There was a picture of Marti making an odd shape that she called a hippocat in the sand. Lizzie was playing volleyball with a few girls, eventually hitting the ball at Edwin's head, because he had ventured over to flirt with her friends. In turn, there was a picture of Edwin chasing Lizzie down the beach with a pale of water. Then a picture of the whole group, sitting on a blue blanket and eating a picnic lunch.

There were also a few Derek hadn't known were taken, ones of him and Casey. A couple where he had dragged her off her towel, threw her over his shoulder, and tossed her into the cool water. Another where she had leapt onto his back in an attempt to dunk him under in retaliation. Then one where she was on his shoulders while they wrestled with Sam and Emily, who had joined them on their vacation, trying to knock each other into the water. Derek and Casey won, but Derek leaned back to drop them into the water too, just to bug her. There was even one when he and Casey had sat on the sand, down from the condo their parents had rented, watching the sunset. Her arms were wrapped around her legs as she rested her chin on her knees. Her face was soft and lovely in a peaceful expression, while a small smile pulled at her lips. Derek sprawled out beside her, leaning up on one of his arms, his other arm wrapped around her neck, his hand sitting on her shoulder. A moment later he actually let a handful of sand go so that it felt down her bikini top, he smirked, amused at her annoyed screech.

Pushing away from the walls of photos, Derek made his way down the hall and looked upstairs at Edwin's room, he gulped, not ready to venture up there. His eyes moved over to his dad and Nora's room, wondering if Casey was sleeping there or Lizzie's room. Checking both, he found she was in neither. Making his way downstairs to the main floor, his eyes rested on her curled form on the couch. Her face was screwed up as if she was having a nightmare and she shivered slightly. Sighing, Derek left the room and returned with a blanket.

Pushing his pants off but leaving his shirt on with his boxers, he sat down beside her on the couch and leaned his head back. His eyes were fluttering; his body was tired and sore. It struck him odd that he felt like he needed to be near her to get a good rest. Reaching out, he straightened out her legs slowly, trying not to wake her. Her face actually calmed slightly, which surprised him. Moving in behind her, he placed his arm over her waist, wrapping his hand around hers. Pulling the blanket around him, he pressed his face into her neck. She turned slightly, pressing into his stomach. There was just enough room on the couch for them to sleep comfortably beside each other.

Her face turned a bit, making his nose brush over her cheek. He stared at her through half-closed eyes for a moment, taking in how soft her features were. Tipping his chin, he kissed her lightly beside her eye. "I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her tightly. Letting his head fall back, he inhaled deeply; sleep invaded his senses, but not before he heard her quiet reply.

"I know," she murmured.

Smiling lightly, he let himself drift away, hoping the next day wouldn't be as bad as the one he'd just gone through. He wanted things to go back to some kind of normalcy; for him to feel like he was his old self again. He knew things would never be the same, but he couldn't go on being filled with all of this pain and sadness. Could he?

* * *

**A/N** _Okay, I'm telling you all now that "**What Happened to Happily Ever After**?" is on hiatus until this story is finished. I'm sorry to those of you who are reading it. I will finish it though, I promise. I'm just going to work my way through this story first and then go back to "**WHTHEA?**" I hope you guys understand!_

_Thank you to everyone who sent their condolences over my lost friend. I send the same back to those who've also lost someone they cared deeply for, to carelessdrunk drivers._

_**Remember, don't drink and drive, it kills!**_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review!_


	6. o6o

_**For Marti**_

o6o

Derek had managed a relatively good sleep, his nightmare -the one that seemed to plague him whenever his eyes closed- had been much less painful to get through. It wasn't as scary as it usually was, it wasn't as heart clenching or sweat inducing as it has been before when he tried to sleep away his pain. He was able to sleep through the entire night, waking up to find himself breathing in the heavenly scent of Casey's hair.

Blinking his tired, heavy eyes, Derek glanced around for the time. Finally, his gaze settled on a clock sitting on a mantle, the hands telling him that it was only nine in the morning. It was vaguely unusual for Casey to still be sleeping, but he wasn't complaining; he liked the feel of her body molded against his. She was laying on her back now, her head tipped away from him. Her hand was still tangled with his, however, though loose because she was sleeping, he had the feeling that if he tried to detangle their fingers, she would either wake up or tighten her grasp.

There had been so many moments in the past where he had dreamt of the day that Casey would let him get this close to her. That she would let him hold her, to sleep next to her, even if nothing intimate happened beforehand. If the circumstances weren't as they were, perhaps he'd be able to fully relish in it. But as it was, they had both lost their most cherished parent and an incredibly close sibling.

Remembering what he had said the night before, he felt the words swirling around in his mind. Tearing at him, prodding him to feel remorse, to beg forgiveness. "_If you're going to scare my entertainment away, at least replace it_," his vindictive and inebriated mouth had teased her. Treating her like she was nothing more than the common women who threw themselves at his feet, begging for attention from the all powerful Derek Venturi. Looking down at her serene face, he couldn't imagine what she thought of him now; how little she really cared, not only after the night before, but their whole past together.

His head was throbbing with a headache, aftershock from being the complete jackass he had been and downing all alcohol that came near his vicinity. "_You haven't even flinched while sitting in my lap. This is a real record, Case. How much longer do you think it'll last?_" Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth, trying to tell himself that it wasn't him speaking to her that way, it was the beer he had guzzled in such a short time span. He could be mean to her, but his taunting of her had virtually ceased over the past year and a half, only picking up in instances where he was too overwrought with thinking his feelings for her were too great to be ignored. Ending with him pushing her to extremes; causing her to scream, to push him away from her, tears streaming from her eyes. Then, so caught up in their moment, all theirs alone, he would lean in, capturing her mouth in a chaste but passion filled kiss. This only lasted a moment, before she realized what was happening, pushed him away, sometimes slapped him, and then ran for her life; ran from him and everything he stood for.

The whole time, while his head had burst with pain and his inner battle against his behavior the night before raged, he kept from waking her. He wasn't ready to see her expression of distaste at being close to him, wasn't ready to hear her disapproving lecture about what he'd done. He couldn't take it from her, not just yet. He didn't want to know that she thought even less of him now; she was all he had left and he couldn't disappoint her like he did his father and everyone else. He just couldn't.

His eyes were beginning to blur, blinded by the extremely painful migraine that felt like a drill was puncturing its way through his temples, moving towards his eyes. He could feel his stomach turning, but he bid the vomit to stay down just a little while longer. He needed this; even if only for a moment. He needed to feel her presence near him, like the calm after the storm; perhaps even before, given his track record with angry outbursts. Burying his face a little closer to her neck, he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair again, feeling it calm his stomach a small bit.

As much as he wanted to forget that he hadn't treated her like a walking body of dirt, he couldn't get the voices to die don in his head. His own dripping with vile sarcasm and contempt for her attempts to make him realize what he was doing was only damaging himself. "_Call the Saint up, I'm sure he'll help you pick up your- what the fuck am I to you, anyway Case?_" He had wondered for so long, what exactly did she think of him? It wasn't completely one-sided, he felt her kiss back during those heated moments they had together. But did she try to look at him as a brother? Was she repulsed by the idea of dating him? Was it because of their parents being married? Or was it he, himself that may repulse her?

For so long, he had hidden his true feelings for her. Keeping it his deep, dark secret from all those around him. Friends and family were not privy to this information; had no idea that he even possessed the heart with which he loved her with. Meeting her when he was but 15, he'd known her three and a half years. Had taken the time to figure her every fibre out; from how her eyes gleam when she's really angry, to how her lips twitch when she finds something inappropriate funny. There were moments together where they weren't completely nasty to each other too, days when they really got a long. Times that Derek knew would span a whole relationship were they to let themselves experience it. She was too scared though and he was too coward to make her see that they were meant to at least try something.

Feeling sweat breaking out over his skin, Derek knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy his close proximity to Casey much longer. It wouldn't be too far off from now that he'd be running to the bathroom, where he would spend the majority of his day, paying his dues for his stupidity. Closing his eyes, he pressed himself a bit closer to her, trying not to wake her, but needing her to calm his nerves. Feeling his lips brush over his skin, a flash of the most cruel moment with her the night before slipped into his mind. "_I promise I won't do anything stupid... I'll only sleep with a couple girls; drink until someone has to rush me to the hospital. And maybe, just maybe I'll choke on my own vomit_." Laughing, his eyes burned with the need to cry. He pressed his face against her, feeling her supple skin against his. "_If I'm lucky_," he said, quietly.

It had been a spiteful, self-loathing moment of his, where he just couldn't take his life anymore but thought he'd pass his real feelings off as mean sarcasm. He knew she saw through that; likely the only one to take his words to heart. Part of him truly wanted to be that guy; that person that everyone feels sorry for but nobody learns from. The one that ends up in the hospital, fawned over with attention; be it good or bad. This probably stemmed from his desire to have his father around; even if he was yelling at him or telling him he was doing something wrong. Just to have him back for one moment, to have him look straight in Derek's eyes and smile that way he has his entire life. George would've shown up at the hospital, his hand holding his weary forehead at having to find his son in the state he was. But he'd be alive, just filled with stupidity that nobody was surprised at. But George wasn't going to show up, he wasn't going to chastise Derek for his behavior because he truly was gone.

The stark reality of knowing he was lying on the couch that his father and brother had sat on so many time in the past, that they had slept on themselves, made him stiffen with unrestrained annoyance. Feeling the cold atmosphere of the house, stripped of its cheery, homey feeling, made his jaw clench, painfully. Hearing the silence in the house, no snoring, no creaking stares, nobody cooking in the kitchen, made his hands curl into angry fists. This wasn't his home anymore; this wasn't the Venturi/MacDonald home. It was a bare, hollow house that no longer possessed all the emotion and family connection it formerly had.

Casey stirred at his stiffening hand, tightening around her own as he released his rising distaste for his surroundings. He felt her eyes on him, so he leaned up slightly, looking over at her. Part of him had told him not to move, to see how long it would take before she hurried away from him. Instead, he needed to see her, awake and alive. He needed to see her face move with animation, to feel the air escape her lips as she breathed. For a moment, he even considered pressing his ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat, but he retrained himself. He knew she was alive; she wasn't with them in that van. He wasn't having a psychological breakdown, he wasn't fearing that those around him were really dead. Was he?

His chest began to rise and fall without abandon, becoming erratic and causing his lungs to burn. Casey stared up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open. She was fully awake now and lifting her hands to his face, directing his eyes to her. "Calm down," she said, softly, nodding. "Deep, long breaths, Derek," she told him, inhaling a gust of air to show him.

Following her, Derek's eyes began to blink vigorously, dry from widening and staring at he zoned out. Her hands ran through his hair, making his body relax even more. He actually started to feel rather sleepy; for a moment, he even considered just going back to sleep, wrapped around her.

Casey had other plans, however, as she lifted his hand off her waist and slipped away from him. "Are you hungry?" she asked, pointing her thumb back to the kitchen. "I can bring you some cereal, or attempt scrambled eggs," she offered.

Feeling the queasy turn of his stomach, Derek shook his head before trying to stand up so he could make his way to the bathroom. Casey was at his side in a split second, her arm wrapped around his back while her hand pressed against his chest gently. "Are you okay?" she wondered.

"Hang-over," he replied, his voice hoarse.

"Is that all?" she wondered, shaking her head.

"No," he admitted, but didn't elaborate. He wasn't about to go into details about the fact that he had actually, for a moment, began to panic that perhaps he was imagining she was alive all along. That maybe he had made her up in his head and she'd been dead the whole time. Of course, along with these delusions, he had the vague dream of hoping his entire family wasn't really dead. Then the real smack across the face came as he understood that he actually prayed he had been taken instead of them. Stupidly, he accidentally voiced this out loud. He felt himself land heavily on the stairs, not realizing just how much support he had placed on Casey in getting upstairs to the bathroom.

"Don't say that," she hissed, her eyes becoming dark and red with the burning tears that threatened to escape. "Don't you ever say that," she told him, shaking her head. Without even waiting for him to say anything, she turned and walked quickly to the kitchen, slamming the swinging door against the wall, loudly.

Sighing, Derek shook his head before covering his face with his hands. Though he still had the strong urge to get to the bathroom, he decided she was much more important than any hang over that might be rolling around his body. When he walked through the kitchen, he expected to see her banging around the dishes, angrily making breakfast. Instead, he was shocked to find her on the ground, her face buried in her legs as she pulled her knees up to her chest. He could see her shoulders shaking, so he knew she was crying, not that it wasn't obvious from the noises she was making.

Kneeling in front of her, Derek wrapped his hands around her calves, dragging her across the floor toward him before turning her to the side. Cradling his arms around her, he lifted her into his lap, holding her tightly against his chest. Running his hands down her hair, he brushed the soft strands off her face, his fingers became damp with her tears. Her hands clutched at him, trying to get impossibly closer to him, pulling herself against him, touching him, tugging at him, almost as if she too didn't quite believe he was really there. Kissing the top of her head, he rocked back and forth, whispering, "shhh," into her ear gently. His hand ran up and down her back, kneading away the tense motion of her back.

"I-" she cried, shaking her head, burying her eyes farther against his chest. "I couldn't bear to lose you too," she told him, sniffling. "I couldn't bare to lose you period," she admitted, her voice soft, almost imperceptible.

He could feel his own tears prickling at the back of his eyes, telling him not to keep it in like he so valiantly hid them. His throat constricted with the pain that only rips at it, burns it, when someone is fighting back tears. He bit his lip, feeling guilt for his thoughts of suicide, for his wish to get away from everything that surrounded him.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, her voice sounding wheezy, like she was gasping. "You want to join them," she said, moving her head, her hair brushing his neck in a tickling sensation. "You want to trade yourself, or at least get away from the pain that's haunting your every step," she said, hitting the nail on the head. "But you can't leave us like that," she whispered. "Marti needs you," she reminded, sighing with a slightly moan. "I need you," she breathing.

"I'm not..." he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

He remembered how he felt standing in the front yard, the overwhelming, nagging idea that he should run away. Not just from the city or province, and not just for a night. But to run away from the country completely, leaving Casey to raise Marti, believing she could do it without him. He'd just continue to run; escaping the darkness and agony that followed just a step behind, waiting for his shield to drop so it can envelop him completely.

"I know how that feels, Derek," she told him, her hand clutching at his bicep. "I know you want to run away from us, to just keep going until it doesn't hurt." Shaking her head, she let out a shaky sob. "But it's not just going to stop and abandoning us is only going to hurt you more." Her chest was rising and falling quickly now, pressing into his stomach.

"It hurts so much," he admitted, his eyes closing as he tightened his arms around her.

"I know," she said, nodding. "I know."

"I'm only eighteen," he reminded. "What if dad decided someone else would raise Marti?" he wondered. "What if there really is someone who could do it better than me?" he asked, his voice hoarse and a tear managing to escape out the side of his tightly shut eye.

"That little girl needs you to help her through this; I don't care what it takes to get you custody," she said, sniffling. "We'll do what it takes. I won't let her be taken away from you." Her head lifted slightly, her breath skittered over his warm skin. "As long as you're sure you're ready to do this. Promise me you won't just up and leave one day," she asked, shaking her head. "So many have been lost, we can't lose you too," she said, her tears slipping out of her eyes and pressing against the skin beneath his throat.

"You're never going to lose me," he promised, his arm around her tightening. "Not even when that fateful day comes where you want me out of your life forever," he tried to kid.

Shaking her head, her sobs had quieted. Her arms wrapped around his neck, but her face stayed buried against his chest. "That day's never going to come," she whispered.

Derek slowly stopped rocking them, the implications of her words screaming questions at him. What did mean? What was she saying? Was she really admitting she wanted him like he wanted her? What was she asking of him? What did he want her to be asking of him?

Leaning back, Casey looked up at him, her cheeks littered with hot tears. Reaching out, Derek brushed them all away, clearing her beautiful face of the sad dressings. His palm slowly made its decent down her face, stopping to cup her cool cheek. Her mouth was so close, just an inch more and he could kiss her. Her warm breath was already breezing over his needing lips. His eyes caught hers, his questions evident in them, he knew. She shook her head ever so slightly, as if to tell him not to wonder, just to do it. Leaning forward, Derek's lips brushed against hers with the such a feather light motion, it was almost as if he hadn't kissed her at all. Before he could move farther, however, Marti charged into the kitchen.

"Smarti," Derek choked out, looking over at her and trying to smile.

Her small face was troubled as she turned back and forth between their sad faces. Slowly walking over, she climbed into Casey's lap, wrapped her arm around Derek's neck and touched Casey's teary face. "It's alright," she told them, nodding. "I'll take care of you," she promised.

Wrapping his hand around Marti's head, Derek pressed a kiss to her forehead and chuckled at her innocent love. His eyes teared up again, not just with pain, but in the comfort of knowing that the two girls in his lap were his family; they were all he had left to sustain him. And he would stay with them, he would walk them through every horrific moment ahead; which he knew there would be many of.

Casey wrapped her arm around Marti's back, hugging both her and Derek tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck and enjoying the rocking motion he made once again; it was almost enough to lull her to sleep. Awhile later, after Marti whined that she was hungry, Derek and Casey reluctantly detangled themselves and stood up. Casey offered to make bacon and eggs, while Derek took a shower, changed, and dressed Marti in some play clothes.

While they were upstairs, Casey pulled out all the fixings for food. Her stomach grumbled, but the mere sight of eating made her feel like throwing up. Some dark part of her liked feeling hollow, liked knowing that she hadn't eaten since the pancake the morning before. She didn't want to eat, didn't want to force something down, keeping her alive. Food, water, anything that kept her alive was almost too much to think of. Breathing through her mouth, Casey dished out their food on a couple plates and brought them into the dining from for them to eat, just as they made their way in from changing.

Derek's hair dripped, causing little spatters of water to land onto his clean blue shirt, his hand swiped up, pushing his hair back. He smiled briefly at the food, the most she was going to get from him for a long while. He still hadn't given her one of his usual grins and she was beginning to miss it terribly; even a smirk would do. Marti had taken on the position of comforter, as she would pat Casey's hand and nod at her with a look like she was going to take care of her, every time she came by.

"Aren't you eating?" Derek wondered, glancing up at her with a look of concern. "I haven't seen you touch any food since my pancakes," he told her, shaking his head while his eyes connected with hers.

"I ate while cooking," she lied, trying to lift her mouth in a smile. "I'm just going to do the dishes. Go ahead, it's really good," she said, motioning to the food.

Though his eyes were locked on her face and he wasn't entirely convinced, he let the subject drop and began to eat. Marti ate heartily, seemingly feeling a little better since she woke up. A short while later, Casey dropped Marti off with Emily for a few hours, needing a babysitter on short notice. While she and Derek made their way towards the hospital, the car was left in a pregnant silence. They didn't want to discuss a few things; Derek was wondering if she was eating, or if she had noticed that he had almost kissed her, and the fact that they were about to go to a morgue to identify their families. While Casey was wondering if he had noticed that she wasn't eating, hoping he hadn't noticed just how much she wanted him to lean in and kiss her as vigorously as he had in the past, and feeling nauseous at even thinking of entering the hospital.

Parking near the entrance, Derek sat in the car with his hands firmly wrapped around the steering wheel. His head leaned back on the rest behind him, his eyes unfocused in their direction up at the ceiling. Finally, after a long moment, he sighed. Opening the door, he stepped out of his car, waiting for Casey to walk around to him. Making their way towards the automatic doors, he lifted his hand to hers. Taking it and smiling at him briefly, Casey steeled herself for what was to come.

After talking to the front desk secretary, they were directed down a long, empty hallway, following behind a tall man, wearing green scrubs. Derek hated the way their footsteps echoed around him, reminding him just how empty everything was. When they stopped in front of a door marked, "Morgue," he swallowed painfully. Glancing at Casey, he could see her lips quivering; her hand was shaking drastically in his grasp, but all he could was run his thumb over her knuckles in reassurance. Pushing their way in, they were met with a larger man with a thick grey beard. Nodding his head at them, a grim set to his mouth, he beckoned them over. His mouth was moving, explaining things as he opened a silver door, pulling a long, metal slab out, a white sheet covering the outline of a body.

Derek couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat anymore, pounding in his ears and making his breathing increase painfully. He squeezed Casey's hand, needing to know that she was there with him, not a figment of his imagination. Feeling the sharp twinge of her hand placing pressure on his, calmed him very slightly. The doctor in front of him began pulling back the blanket, his mouth still moving but no words reaching Derek's ears. His eyes fell, staring at the pale, bluish tinged face of his father. There was a deep gash over his forehead, leading into his hairline, clean and almost as if it wasn't anything vital.

Even though Derek knew he was dead, knew he was still from the lack of life in him, he had the urge to reach out and shake him awake. To yell in his face until his dad finally sat up and told him to shut up, he was giving him a headache. While he toyed with this idea in his head, he made no noise otherwise.

"-turi? Mr. Venturi?" the doctor asked, likely many times.

Snapping his head up, Derek stared at him, oddly. "What?' he asked, dully.

"Can you verify that this is your father? One George Martin Venturi?"

Clearing his throat, Derek nodded, before directing his gaze back down at his dad, so still, so cold looking. His lips were rimmed with their natural pink colour, while his lips themselves were a greyish purple. His eyes were closed, a hollow look to the skin as it seemed to sink in. Derek felt the urge to hug him, but the thought scared him far too much. Before he could say anything more, the doctor pushed the body away and opened another door, pulling another one out.

His gaze was centered on Casey, going from the paper to her blank face as he read off injuries or medical history, Derek didn't know. He had tuned him out then and he was doing so again. The man lifted back the sheet, revealing Nora, Derek involuntarily gasped, which surprised even him. Casey's free arm lifted, her hand wrapping around his upper arm almost painfully.

Derek felt a swirl in his stomach, nothing good, but he wasn't sure if it was from the drinking the night before or actually seeing his step mother lying dead in front of him. A long gash marred her cheek, stitches holding it together, likely for preservation. Their was a bright, red seatbelt burn across her chest and becoming very noticeable around her neck. Her face was like his fathers; grey, hollow, lifeless. They both looked so cold, so stiff, unlike their real selves; the selves that lived with a sense of humor, a bright sense of family, and blood pumping triumphantly through their veins.

After a short explanation and asking Casey if it was indeed her mother, the doctor pushed her away to open a third door. By this time, Derek really wasn't sure he could take much more; having to see his little brother and step sister lying in front of him was just too much. He felt the familiar urge to run tugging at him, screaming at him to just leave. They could ask Casey, she could verify them without him, he didn't need to be there. Turning though, he saw Casey, so broken, so lonely, and he couldn't leave her there to do it herself.

Derek felt a sharp cold draft hit him as the sheet peeled away to reveal the lifeless form of young Edwin Venturi. His mouth was twisted up very lightly at the edges, the boy was born to smirk. His face seemed even more pale than the two before him, oddly enough. Though the skin was scattered with random cuts all over his skin, ranging in size and depth.

He was so small on the wide, metal slab that Derek wanted to just pick him up and cradle him. He wanted to promise him that everything was going to be fine, that he'd fix it somehow. But he really couldn't do that; because there was nothing for him to fix. His mop of brown hair was no longer gelled the way he had liked it lately, making Derek feel like he should say something, but his mouth was kept firmly shut.

He ached to see his little brother sit up and tell him it was all a gag; that they had really gotten him that time. He wished he could hear him laugh one more time, or make one of his sarcastic comments about all things "teenager" or "adult." He prayed he could have one last moment with him, to say all that was never said; things Derek hadn't even thought of yet, but would one day. Things a big brother was supposed to tell his little brother, to help him along in life, direct him on a better path. Unfortunately, Edwin no longer had a path in life; he didn't have a life at all.

Derek nodded to the coroner, watching as his little brother was pushed back into the freezer, another face amongst the many.

The doctor pulled out the last slab, glancing between them both before removing the sheet. Derek decided that Lizzie looked the worst. She must've been sitting by the window where the car hit, because the side of her looked rather mangled, pressed in where it shouldn't. The left side of her was bruised, the skin darker than on the other half of her. Her face was cut up, like Edwin's, but her gashes were deeper, looking as if some were still imbedded with glass.

Casey fell then, sliding down his side to the floor, her face leaning against his leg as she sobbed, while making gagging noises.

Derek stared at the young girl in front of him, Lizzie MacDonald, shocked at how different she looked. He remembered her fondly; she would've been beautiful when she grew up, just like her sister. Though she had a more tom-boy, easy going attitude, unlike Casey, she was completely easy to get along with. Derek missed seeing her pony-tailed head, bobbing around as she ran around, trying to score a goal on him in their one on one games of soccer. He missed her knowing smile whenever he and Casey got into another of their many fights; practically a ritual between the two of them. He missed her polite demeanor, her intelligence, and her Lizzie mannerisms. He just plain missed her; never realizing just how much she had come to mean to him as a little sister over the years.

For a brief moment, while staring at her, he didn't see Lizzie, but instead pictured Casey lying in front of him. Immediately, his stomach turned, launching a load of things up his chest to his mouth. The doctor pointed at a sink, which Derek made it to just in time. Leaning over it, his shoulders heaved as he let out the contents of his alcohol swamped stomach, his mind dizzy with thoughts of a dead Casey instead of Lizzie. Seeing her mangled, seeing her without life, stiff and unmoving in front of him. It caused another bout of nausea to run its course down the drain from his mouth.

Casey had walked over to him, her hand running up his back in a soothing motion, while the other had dampened a piece of paper towel, now pressing it over his face, taking extra care to try and cool him down over without getting in his way. After a few moments, when Derek was sure he was able to stand up straight, on his wobbly legs, he turned to see Casey, but instead saw her the way he had imagined her. Closing his eyes, he covered them with his eyes, shaking his head. Rinsing his mouth of the taste milling around, he spat it back into the sink, feeling worse than he had in his entire life.

Instead of opening his eyes, Derek simply pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder. "Tell me you're real," he whispered.

Wrapping her arms around him, Casey rubbed his shoulders. "I'm real," she told him softly. One of her hands ventured up, slipping into his hair. "I'm real," she said, quietly.

Tightening his embrace around her waist, he began shaking very slightly, but Casey brought no attention to the fact that she knew he was crying. She could feel his tears on her shoulder, feel the quake of his shoulders. His hands pressed into her back, trying to bring her closer to him, scared that she was going to disappear any minute.

"Casey," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Shh," she whispered, running her hand down his neck and rubbing his shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere, Derek."

Hugging her tighter, if it was at all possible, Derek pressed his face closer to her neck, his lips brushing her neck. Her hair had fallen, covering his face from anyone else's view. Though it was a little restraining, Casey didn't complain about how he was holding her, or how strong his embrace was. She simply held him, soothing him, waiting for him to calm down enough for them to leave.

Swaying slightly from side to side, she was relieved to notice that his shoulders were slowly beginning to calm down, the shaking becoming less noticeable. His tears had stopped, but his face was still securely pressed against her, he sniffled quietly. His arms however, never lost their strong hold on her, if anything, tightening when he felt she had moved away from him.

* * *

**A/N** _Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was pretty emotional. I'll be updating again soon! Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think! Review :D_

**_DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE; IT KILLS!_**


	7. o7o

**Warning:**_ Derek's POV could hurt those of you who may have lost someone in a car crash, I will warn you that its quite painful to read for some._

**_For Marti_**

o7o

It had taken awhile to get Derek to let her go enough to leave the hospital, but when she had, she found she just wanted to hold him again. He was sitting in the passenger seat up front, his eyes staring outside, red rimmed with dark marks beneath them. Ever since she extracted herself from his embrace to tell them they had to leave, he seemed to have pulled away from her completely. He stopped talking, stopped looking anywhere near her, and moved away when she tried to touch him. He was lost, falling deep into his treacherous thoughts, worrying Casey to no end.

Pulling into the driveway, she gave Derek the keys to unlock the front door and get into the house, she was becoming worried about his physical and mental state. He had a number of signs that worried her over whether he was willing to stay alive, especially after seeing the bodies of their loved ones. Hurrying across the lawn, Casey knocked on the Davids door, waiting for Emily to answer it so she could take Marti home. When nobody answered, she tried the door but found it locked. Going through the side gate, Casey looked called out for either of them. "Em?" she shouted, looking in the window, but finding neither of them. "Marti, are you guys back here?"

"Casey," little Marti's voice called back. "The pool stole my rainbow ball, and I want it," she shouted.

Feeling her heart stop, Casey's feet were moving before she could process it, hurrying down the side of the house. Her eyes landed on the uncovered pool, sitting as a insidious trap, just waiting for someone like Marti to come along and fall in. Her small arms were reaching out for the ball, too far out for to get to. Her feet began to slip as her body was hanging over the edge more than her short legs could handle.

Casey stopped breathing, this was the last thing she could handle right now. She wasn't far now, but she couldn't get her voice to work to call out telling Marti to back away from the pool. Her mind screamed with horrible scenario's where she just didn't make it to the little girl in time. Where a fifth, much smaller, casket would follow behind the four that already haunted her future.

Running forward, Casey wrapped her arms around Marti's small stomach just as she was about to tumble in. Sighing, she fell backwards with a loud thump, her eyes closed and a sob of relief fighting to come out of her mouth.

"God Marti, don't ever do that again," she said, her voice raising. "You could've fallen in," she told her, shaking her head. "You don't know how to swim, what would you have done if you fell?" Turning her around, Casey stared into her eyes, searchingly. "You've really got to be more careful," she told her, her eyes burning from overwhelming tears.

"I'm sorry Casey," she said, reaching out and touching her wet eyes. "Are you sad because of me?"

Sniffling, Casey picked her up and began walking towards Emily's house, finding the backdoor ajar. "I'm sad because I was worried about you," she explained. "You really scared me back there, Marti. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Do you understand?'

Nodding, Marti glanced back at the pool and then turned to Casey. "I just really wanted to play with the ball," she told her. "I was reading to Emily but she fell asleep and I was bored," she said, shrugging with an exasperated sigh. "The doors were locked so I used a chair," she continued. "I'm really sorry Casey, don't be sad."

"I won't be sad if you promise never to do it again," Casey told her, nodding. "It's really important that you don't go near things like that, things that can hurt you."

"I won't, I promise," she replied, pushing Casey's mouth up into a smile. "Now you have to be happy, 'cause we made a deal."

Chuckling, Casey nodded, smiling down at her. "Let's go wake Emily up," she said, readjusting Marti on her hip.

Her eyes moved over to glance out a window at the house next door, wondering what Derek was doing. She didn't like how he'd been acting lately, almost as if in a daze since they left for the Hospital. She had been a little hesitant in letting him drive, but he was insistent on it. Then, after seeing Lizzie, he completely broke down; which was expected after seeing his family, but he took it to another level. When he sobbed into her shoulder, holding her tightly, Casey really wondered if he thought she was gone. He sounded so scared, so broken, as if he truly believed she wasn't right there with him but a figment of his imagination. Feeling a rush of worry for him, all alone in the house, she hurried to Emily's room.

"Em," she called out, stepping to the bed and shaking her with her free arm. "Em, wake up."

Startling from her deep slumber, the tired girl looked around with confused eyes, glancing at Marti and then at Casey. "What- What's going on?"

"You were babysitting," Casey reminded, feeling a load of anger directed at her best friend. "Look, there's a lot you and I need to talk about, but right now I need to go check on Derek. Can you please watch Marti for a little while longer? And this time, don't fall asleep," she told her sternly.

Putting Marti down on the bed, Casey kneeled in front of her. "I need you to stay here okay? I'm going to be right back, but for now, I think you should stay with Emily." Noticing Emily's tired expression, she looked back at Marti with a serious expression. "Remember your promise, Marti. No dangerous things." Standing up, she smoothed the girls' head, before turning to the door and half running down the stairs.

Derek couldn't hear anything except the loud beat of his heart, over and over, ringing in his ears like a taunting reminder that he was alive while his family was dead. THUMP... THUMP... THUMP... Yelling at him, beating it into his brain, that while he had been focusing on himself, hardly spending time with them at all, he had wasted everything. Playing hockey, going to school, living away from them, he had let the most important days pass him by. Messages inviting him over to visit went ignored, believing he had the rest of his life to drop in for a short hello. Phone calls telling him they missed him, asking if he'd like to watch a hockey game with his dad, were forced and plans were always rearranged for whenever his schedule was dully empty. They had reached out to him, asking him to stay a part of their lives but he had pushed them away, trying his best to live his own life.

Now, he sat in his bedroom, a picture of him, his dad, Marti. and his little brother held tightly in his grasp, turning his knuckles white. It was all over now, all permanent. There was no mistake, the bodies lying in that morgue were theirs; it wasn't a case of mistaken identity like his heart had sorely hoped for. They were lying on those silver slabs, pale and lifeless, scars and stitches reminders of why they were there. Lizzie's entire right side proof of the impact the drunk driver had on the van, on the lives of the people inside of it.

He could see it now, as clear as if his nightmare were playing right in front of him. Tears streamed from his eyes, but he could see them still. The scenery of his bedroom all washed away, replaced with his living thoughts of how it must've happened. He knew them well, knew what would be happening that night. How they would act, what they would say, where they would sit, who be doing what. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he went to sleep, this is what he say, this is what plagued him.

It was dark out, rain slicked the roads, pouring down the windshield before the wipers would push it off. The radio was low, almost so much so that it couldn't be heard. George was the only one really listening to it, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and nodding his head forward slightly. Nora kept glancing back at Edwin and Lizzie who were currently playing a card game, one they had come up with together; it didn't make much sense to anyone but them.

"That's not fair, I had an Ace," Edwin said, shaking his head, revealing his card again.

"Yes, but the King beats the Ace, you know that," Lizzie replied, shaking the King at him.

"Not if I pair the Ace with a Jack," Edwin reminded, lifting his brow.

"If my King is paired with the seven, then I still win, and oh look," Lizzie said, rolling her eyes and producing a seven. "I win, Ed. You always try and cheat, you're just like Derek."

"Thank you," he replied, smirking. "But, not so fast, because I have a nine, so putting my nine, Jack, and Ace together, I completely overrule anything you might have. I win," he told her triumphantly.

Sighing, Lizzie shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. Let's play again, before I lose interest in you always winning," she said, sourly.

"Play nice, you two," Nora said, smiling lightly. Reaching out, she took George's free hand, squeezing it. "We should invite Derek and Casey over this weekend, have a barbecue or something. It'd be nice to see them, they're always so busy lately."

"Life is busy as a new adult," George reminded her, smiling. "They're just trying to spread their wings."

"Well, why couldn't they spread their wings at home?" she wondered, frowning. "It's not like we were really that suffocating, were we?" she asked, shaking her head. "I don't know, I guess I really miss them."

"Me too," George told her, lifting her hand and kissing it.

"Edwin!" Lizzie called out, annoyed. "Are you hiding cards in your collar?"

"What? No," he replied, obviously lying. "Why would you accuse me of such things? Have you no faith?"

"You are too," she replied, reaching out and pulling a wad of cards out. "Cheater," she called him, scathingly.

A bright flash goes of then, the headlights of the oncoming vehicle bathing them. Eyes widen, faces turn to stare with terror, and the crunch of metal on metal rings in their ears. It was as if everything slowed down, cards flying, arms reaching out to save each other, faces moving to stare at one another in fear. The windows of the van split into various sized shards, biting into the skin of the victims of a foolish boy who drank too much. Screaming rang out, muffled but distinct, Nora and Lizzie, tears and wailing filling the ears of all those around them. George and Edwin, startled too much to make any noise but grunting from the sheer force of the impact, crushing them, throwing them.

Then as if everything was speeding up to normal, the vehicles sliding across the road in a mangled T formation, skidded to a stop. The van was tipped up, verging on falling over on to its side completely; its tires were flat but still spinning. The front end of the stupid boy's car was pushed up right against the windshield, looking as if it had run straight into a brick wall. The faceless boy, drunk and hurt, pushed his door out, falling to the ground and trying to crawl away from the carnage.

Smoke billowed from the van, surrounding the unmoving four figures inside of it, filling their lungs as their breathing slowly stopped. George's face lie against the steering wheel, bleeding and cut up, the windshield had a spider web across it, blood spattered over it. Nora was hanging forward in her seat, her chin limply hovering near her chest. The seat belt was the only thing keeping her up, biting into her skin. Lizzie was pressed up against Edwin, her body strewn at an odd angle, receiving the worst of the blow from the car, as she was right beside where it hit. Edwin was stuck up against the other door, his head lolled back and a trail of blood making its way out of his mouth. His head had connected with the door window, cracking it wide open; blood seeped down across it. The glass was scattered all over them, digging into their skin, covering their bodies and glimmering blue and red as the ambulance came for them; far too late.

Nobody moved, nobody breathed. They just lay, waiting for a rescue that wouldn't make it to them in time. Eyes closed, mouths hanging open, bodies limp with death. No heartbeats, no pulses, no life left in them at all. Blood trickled from every open wound, dirtying their clothes, their skin. Were they alive, they'd hate the noise of the siren, annoyed with its never ending drill into their ears. However, they weren't any longer, so the noise that surrounded them made no difference. They had gone to what Derek hoped was a better place, but had no reason to believe it so. For if this place existed, then the God that ruled it would not have taken them from him.

Swallowing, Derek inhaled a large gust of air, cursing the fact that he could while their lungs would never expand with oxygen again. Seeing it all, living it as if it were real, as if he knew it had happened how his mind had made it, he lost control. The picture in his hand snapped, glassed shattered into a few large chunks, one lifted, biting into his finger. Derek hardly winced, not even noticing that he was hurt. It was all gone now, it was all real, there were no more reassurance, no more hopeful doubts. They had left him; not on purpose, but he was alone in the end.

His brother, his incredible little brother; dead. No more laughter, no more pranks. No more girls, no more computer. No more friends, no more Babe Raider. He was gone, never to talk again, to smirk, or look up to Derek. In a few days time, he would be buried beneath the ground, hidden from the world; a cement block, stating his name, birth and death date, and a small saying, all that would be left to commemorate him. Nobody would ever have the chance to know him in the future, he would never brighten another person's life; he would never brighten Derek's life again.

George, his father, the man who raised him, filling him with morals that he hardly let anyone know he had absorbed. The man who had never really expected much of him, but loved him all the same. He had taken him away from his mother, a good choice in Derek's mind. Taken him from her ridicule and hate, replacing it with a home of some stability, filled with a real family connection. Giving Derek anything he needed, never questioning it, just knowing that if he asked it was worth it. Believing in his hockey dream, pushing him to be great and always being there to watch his games. He wouldn't be in those stands anymore; Derek would never hear him shouting, "_That's my son! That's my son!_" He would never congratulate Derek on being the best hockey player anybody would ever see.

George would never smile that way that he always did, or laugh uproariously at things that really weren't funny. He would slowly be forgotten by everyone who had ever known him. His job would be given to someone else, somebody would buy the house that he had owned and raised his children in, his life would slowly dwindle away to be remembered fondly until forgotten completely.

Derek sat against the wall, his fingers running over the family picture he still held, his hands bleeding all over, the glass cutting them up. Lifting it up, held it at eye-level. "You were supposed to be here," he told it, staring into the eyes of his father. "You were supposed to grow old, to retire one day when you had fully lived out your life." His voice was hoarse now, breaking at certain points, withering away. "I wasn't supposed to lose you until I was old; old enough to possibly make it through this. But... fuck... I'm not ready for this." Letting out a shaky breath, he shook his head. "I can't do this without you, dad. I can't..." Derek let the frame fall from his hand, the glass scattering over his jeans.

Banging his head back, he slammed it into the wall, letting out a loud, pained sob. Running his bloody, tender hands through his hair, he tugged at it, growling through his grit teeth. His legs moved around, digging into the carpet and pushing down until his back was pinned to the wall almost painfully. His chest hurt, his face was cold, and his head was throbbing. He couldn't this, this was all too much for him. Death and its living victims, he just couldn't stand by and wait for the pain to stop ripping at him.

His wallet was digging into his leg, reaching into his pocket, he plucked it out, turning through until he found the hidden picture of perfection. Casey; so beautiful, loving, and helpful. But she wasn't here now, no, she was in his head somewhere. She was screaming out at him to stop, to think, her sweet voice reminding him of his foolish actions. But she was drowned out; covered over by the incessant beat of his heart. Thump, thump, thumping away in his ears. His Casey, his little grade grubber that thought things through and stopped him being stupid, from acting with abandon. Dumb things like drinking and driving, like killing innocent families. Utterly moronic things like partying until the point where his stomach almost needed to be pumped.

Completely ignorant actions like picking up the jagged shard of glass on his leg and digging it into his forearm. Turning, looping until it made a C, then adding two lines, like a corner of a box. There, a G, right there on his arm for his lost father. It was hardly able to be seen through the blood now gushing out of his arm, but he ignored that to pass the red glass to his other hand, sticking it down into his unmarred arm, four lines, one standing tall and the other three running horizontal: E, for Edwin. Perhaps it would've hurt more if he had been able to feel anything but the morose darkness that consumed him now.

He laughed, a sorrowful, burning, hiccuping laugh, breaking out of his throat and causing his tears to increase. Lifting his knees, he laid his arms out in front of him, the blood poured down, seeping into the cracks of his elbows and leaking onto his jeans. His breathing slowed from its erratic pace, his tears began to stop, and his jaw relaxed from its clenching position. He simply stared now, watching the life drain away from him, unlike his family he could do something to stop it. He could reach over and wrap one of his shirts around it, but what was the point anymore?

The door opened, a creak sounding in his ears, finally he could hear something other than the thump of his beating heart; maybe because it was slowly stopping, he didn't know. And there she was, his perfect little Casey, in all of her beautiful glory. She was shocked, her face showed that, her eyes were darting around, tears slipping out. Running to the phone, she dialed 911, sobbing something incoherent out; the only word he caught was, "blood." She was kneeling in front of him now, his legs fell from in front of him, laying on each side of her. Her crystal blue eyes ran over the mess of his arms scared and confused, she pulled her overshirt off, ripping it in half quickly. Wrapping one of his arms in the white fabric, she muttered to herself, not making sense, before she did the same for the other. Slowly, the blood seeped through the shirt, staining it.

"Your shirt's ruined," he informed her, for no real reason, his voice hardly even a whisper.

Looking up at him, her rambling stopped. "Why?" she asked, breathing the question. "Why do you have to do these things?" she wondered, shaking her head. Staring into his eyes, she reached out, stroking his cheek. "Are we not enough for you?" she questioned. "Marti and I," she explained, sniffling. "We're here Derek, we're still here with you." Her eyes darkened then, her lips stopped quivering. "We're still here!" she screamed, her eyes falling closed.

Wrapping his arms around her, Derek pulled her against his chest, the blood that soaked through smeared over her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't," she told him, sobbing against his chest. "Stop hurting yourself," she told him, her hands clutching at his shirt, trying to get herself closer. "Just talk to me, tell me what it is that hurts so bad that you need to leave us." Leaning up, she stared at him. "I know it's hard, Derek. I know it's hard to know that they're really gone. But they're not coming back, no matter how much you hurt yourself, you can't bring them back!" she shouted, her voice more hurt than angry.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, letting out a shaky breath. "I just want it to stop, Case, I need it to stop." Reaching out, Derek buried a hand in her hair, pulling her face closer. "Make it stop," he asked her, his bloody thumb running over her lips. "Please," he pleaded.

Nodding slowly, Casey leaned in, pressing her lips against his in one fluid motion. Her tears slipped down from her closed eyes, wetting her cheeks and landing on their connected mouths. She put all that she could into that one kiss, every emotion she every felt, every feeling that ever ran through her; all for Derek, all for him to feel just a painless moment. She could feel his thumb moving across her cheek, brushing it delicately. This wasn't like their fervent kissing in the past, this was slow, caring. She could feel his eyes on her, open and watching her; likely to make sure it was really happening. He drew her bottom lip in between his, sucking on it lightly, grazing his teeth over it, making her shiver.

Pulling back from his mouth, Casey pressed a kiss against the side of his lips, moving up his face to kiss beneath his eyes, the side of his eyebrow, his temple, across his forehead, and then back again. Her breath shuddered against his skin, warm and wrought with sadness. Her fingers wrapped around his neck and ran through his hair, tugging him closer to her, never letting him go. Derek finally closed his eyes, just absorbing her, letting her take it all away from him. Her sweet mouth moved all over, kissing away the sadness, the pain, and replacing it with something he'd sought from her for so long. Love. Whether she meant it the way he did, he didn't know, but he could feel it in her. That was all he needed, all he wanted.

Red and blue lights flittered over the walls, breaking through the windows to alert them of their appearance. Voices could be heard outside, calling out to see where the victim was. Pounding on the door, more shouting, they've come to help, to save him. But he could care less what they were there for. He didn't want their help, he didn't want their capable hands keeping his life from slipping away. He wanted to stay with Casey, for this moment, repeating over and over. Perhaps without the blood everywhere, just with them, sitting there on the ground together; two people, not step siblings, not orphaned adults.

Drawing his hands up, now feeling the ache in them from his actions, he cupped her face on either side, holding her in front of him. Her eyes were still leaking, shedding her concern down her delicate face, marring it with death's despair. Swiping his thumbs beneath her eyes, he stopped the tears for just a moment. "I don't deserve you," he told her, staring at her seriously. "But I still love you."

oTBCo

* * *

**A/N** _Emotional, I know. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it took a lot to write. Especially when he's remembering his nightmare, that scene was especially hard to get out. Please leave a review, I'd like to know what you all think._

_**To drink and drive is a fool's action. To believe yourself immortal with that bottle falling from your lips, is stupid. To sit behind that wheel, turn the ignition, and find no fault in your actions, is murder. Don't drink and drive, it might just save a life; possibly yours.**_

o**_BDT_**o


	8. o8o

_**For Marti**_

o8o

Derek stared at her, inhaling gulps of air, feeling as if his chest was constricting. Letting out a pitying chuckle, he shook his head. "God I'm stupid," he whispered, watching a tear fall down her cheek.

"You're not stupid," Casey told him, her voice hoarse, scared. "You're just really hurting right now," she assured, reaching out to run her palm down his cheek.

Swallowing painfully, Derek's eyes fell to the bloodied picture of his family, the one he used to get himself into this situation. "If-" Clenching his jaw, he pulled her face closer, their noses touching. "If this whole mess ends in another casket for you to bury, I want you to take Marti and leave," he told her, his hands shaking in her hair. "Take her and go somewhere to hide, to live. Sell the house for money, take my car, and you raise her." Letting out a shuddering breath, he knocked his head back against the wall. "You raise her like I would've, Case." Tears slipped down his face, leaving a cold strip of fear on his cheeks. "And you tell her everyday that Smerek loved his Smarti," he breathed.

Shaking her head, she let out a choked sob. Derek's hands stopped her face, her tears wetting his hands. Casey lifted her arms, her hands clasping his as she closed her eyes, shivering in front of him. "You're not dying," she whispered, inhaling sharply. "You can't leave us too." Curling her fingers, her nails dug into his hands, but he ignored the pain. "You promised me," she whimpered, her eyes opening to stare at him searchingly. "You told me you'd always be there," she breathed.

"I am," he said, nodding. "As stupid and completely cliche as it always sounds, I'm always with you. I don't have to be standing there beside you, I don't have to be touching you, but I'm there. You won't see me, you won't hear me, but I swear I'm right there beside you."

"I don't want that," she said, shaking her head as best she could. "I want you here like this, except not bleeding to death," she said, exhaling sharply. "Why couldn't you just talk to me like this? Why'd you have to do... this?" she asked, staring down at the blood all over them.

"I told you I was stupid," he reminded, letting out a shuddering laugh. "I just... I know you feel it, but it was like, on high for me. Everything I did; breathing, blinking, eating, talking, it was all so hard to do. I just wanted to lay down and stop; stop all of it." The pounding footsteps of the paramedics were nearing his door. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, and I know that sounds stupid, because obviously you would've found me eventually." Staring at her, he tried to stop his chin from shaking. "But I really never meant for you to be hurt by this, and I promise you that if they fix my mistake, I won't ever do it again." Pulling her face forward, his lips brushed against hers as he spoke. "I promise you, I'll get help. I'll do anything, as long as I know I'll never hurt you again."

Before Casey could respond, numerous hands were pushing her out of the way to get to Derek, picking him up to put him on a gurney. Various voices were calling out medical terms, discussing his statistical terms of living. His head had turned to one side, his deep brown eyes staring at her, blinking, almost closing. His lips very slowly turned up into one his regular smiles, it scared her more than reassured her.

Scurrying forward, Casey took his hand, running her free one over his face. "I love you too," she whispered, leaning in to press her shaking lips against his briefly.

Her contact with him was broken, the paramedics lifted him from the floor, running out of the room to get down to the ambulance. Casey let them go, staring down at the mess on Derek's floor, hysterically thinking that the blood might not come out. Jumping up from the floor, feeling the source of his life all over her, she began tugging at her clothes angrily. Inhaling deeply, her chest heaving with sobs, she let out a piercing scream of sorrow before covering her face with her bloody hands.

Shaking her head, she turned and ran down stairs, hurrying across the yard to Emily's house. Banging on the door over and over, she slipped to the ground, crying. Finally, Emily pulled the door open, staring down at Casey with wide, scared eyes. She looked over at the ambulance then back to Casey, turning to tell Marti to go to the living room. Casey felt her arms around her, rubbing her back to calm her sobbing. Clutching at her best friends arms, she lifted her head, staring at her with terrified eyes. "I've lost him," she cried, her shoulders shaking painfully. "He's dying."

Emily rocked Casey, watching as the blue and red lights of the ambulance disappeared in the distance. Calling back to Marti, she told her to bring her the phone. Casey simply shivered on the ground, no longer speaking or moving. She listened as Emily called Sam, explaining what she could and asking her to come over to the house. Time passed, how much, Casey didn't know. She did, however, notice when Sam had arrived. As he lifted her up from the ground, walking to his car and placing her on the passenger seat. She heard him tell Emily to watch Marti, that they'd call when they found something out.

Casey watched through the window as rain slipped down the glass, reminding her of tears; her finger lifted, tracing one on its decent. Then her eyes feel on the red colouring of her hand, causing her heart to speed up again, her tears to replenish themselves, and her fear to double. Turning her head to one side, she stared at Sam as he drove. His eyes were red from the hidden tears escaping without end, every once and awhile, he'd lift his hand to brush them away; never making any sound or indication that he was hurting.

"Men," she said, her voice still choked up. "You know, maybe if you guys would actually talk about how you're feeling, I wouldn't have to find you bleeding to death on the ground," she told him, speaking more to Derek. "Just once, I wish you'd let yourselves cry, let yourselves feel. Then you wouldn't be in this predicament," she wailed, lifting her hands to press into her eyes. Shaking her head, she sucked in air, making a whooshing noise through her tears.

Sam reached out, running his hand over her arm to calm her. "I don't think I should be crying while driving," he told her, his voice low with emotion. "I know you're talking to Derek, not me, but I'm sorry I reminded you of him just then."

Sitting up, Casey looked over at him, breathing heavily. "He finally told me he loved me, and I'm going to a hospital to find out if he's dead," she said, shuddering. "I waited years for him to finally talk to me like a real girl. For him to finally see me as someone other than that step sister that he fights with and then kisses out of anger," she admitted, shaking her head. "I've loved him for so long, but I was so scared that he didn't care about me the same way." Her hands ran up and down her arms, trying to push the chill away.

"I can't really remember a time when he didn't love you," Sam said, sighing. "It feels like its been so long since you two were just those two step siblings that hated each other." Shaking his head, he glanced at her briefly, before returning his eyes to the road. "He didn't tell me until I saw the picture of you in his locker at the rink, right above Marti's. The only two pictures he had up," he told her, smiling lightly. "Everybody assumed you were his girlfriend and he never really corrected them. You were a big hit with the guys though, so that was probably why he was adamant on them thinking you were with him."

Chuckling, Casey felt a sharp pain in her chest, making her face fall again.

"So that forced him to finally admit to me that he's always had feelings for you. He first figured it out back when you and I got together; that whole male code about not dating step siblings, was his way of stopping me from going out with a girl he actually liked. Of course, he didn't think he could ever act on it, but he still didn't want to see his best friend with his crush. I think he fell in love with you the last year you guys were living together though. When your fighting picked up, only to end in you two finally kissing," he said, chuckling. "Your reaction afterwards kind of deterred him from trying to start anything though."

"I was worried I was just another girl to him," she admitted. "I wanted him to see me as a girl, I just didn't want him to see me like all those other girls he'd been with," she explained, biting her lip.

"You were never like them, you never could be," Sam told her, sighing. "As sad as it sounds, now that your parents are no longer here, there is really nothing in the way of you two being together. If you don't count the fact that he just committed suicide," he said, quietly. "He's screwed up right now, he did something incredibly stupid, but I really think that when he makes it through this, he's going to be better off because of it."

"Why?" Casey wondered.

"Because he has you now," Sam confirmed, pulling into the parking lot of the hospital and turning to stare at her. "He's always had you there as a friend or a step sister. But now, he really has you, because I bet you told him you loved him too."

Casey nodded, slowly.

"There are going to be a lot of problems coming up," Sam told her, heavily. "I know you guys want to raise Marti, meaning there's likely going to be a custody battle. I don't think you're going to want to live in George and Nora's house, so you'll have to sell it. The funeral hasn't been planned yet, so that'll have to be done. But you should know Casey, that while you're helping Derek, you're not alone. I can guarantee that I'll help with anything you need, and I'm sure Emily will too." Reaching out, he took her hand, squeezing it. "It's all going to turn out okay."

Nodding, tears falling from her face, Casey turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered shakily.

Rubbing her back until she slowly quieted down, Sam pulled back to ask her if she was ready to go in. Casey nodded, undoing her seatbelt and pushing open her passenger side door. Staring up at the building, she was overwhelmed with the memories of her last visit. They had parked in the same spot, her and Derek, and she had climbed out to see him waiting on the other side with his hand out for her to take. Her chest ached, scared that he might be joining their family on a cold, silver slab, hidden away beside the many other victims of deaths sorrowful grip.

* * *

Marti sat on a chair in Emily's kitchen, her legs dangling over the edge, swinging back and forth. A glass of juice sat in front of her, beside a grilled cheese sandwich, one bite taken out of the corner. Picking at the sandwich, Marti looked over at Emily, who was wiping her hand over her eyes, while waiting for her own grilled cheese to finish. "Emily?" she asked, staring up at her with wide, innocent eyes. 

"Yeah Marti?" Emily wondered, sniffling.

"Why are you sad?" the little girl wondered, hopping off her chair. "Is it because of Derek?" she asked, shaking her head. "It's okay Emily, I know you liked him too." Sighing, she stared up at her, tipping her head to one side. "Smerek loves Casey and she loves him back. Don't cry though, cause you'll find somebody. Like Sam!" she said, excited. "I like Sammy, you should love him!"

Kneeling down, Emily stared at her with wide eyes. "What'd you say?" she asked.

"You should love Sam," Marti told her, nodding.

"No before that, about Derek and Casey," Emily told her, motioning with her hand.

"Oh, they love each other," she said, easily. "They used to kiss," she told her, wrinkling her nose. "But now they just hug a lot or hold hands. I found them in the kitchen yesterday, on the floor," she continued, nodding. "They looked like they were going to kiss, but with tears."

Smiling slightly, Emily chuckled. "Casey and Derek, huh? You know I always kind of wondered if they..." Frowning suddenly, she swallowed. "No wonder she was so distraught. I mean, I know she's known him for years, but she always acted like he was a pain, and now he might-" Looking over at Marti, she stopped herself.

"Where's Smerek and Casey?" Marti asked, pouting. "Casey said she'd come back for me soon."

"They're... really busy right now," Emily told her, standing up to make sure her sandwich wasn't burning. "They'll call later when they're ready to pick you up."

"Are they together yet?" Marti wondered. "Because they don't act like dad and Nora did," she said, shaking her head. "I think they're scared."

"Scared?" Emily asked, tossing her sandwich onto a plate and gesturing for Marti to follow her back to the table. "Why would they be scared?"

"Because people we love go to heaven," Marti said, hopping up to her chair.

Choking slightly on the bite she had taken, Emily shook her head. Swallowing quickly, she looked down at Marti. "No, sweetie, not everybody we love goes to heaven. Not until it's their time."

"How do we know when they'll leave?" Marti wondered, leaning her chin on her hands, placed atop each other on the table.

"You don't," she admitted, shaking her head. "Nobody knows when they're going to die, it just sort of... happens," she explained, sighing.

"I still think he's scared she'll die if he loves her," Marti said, sadly. "Everyone we loved died." A couple tears slowly made their way out of Marti's eyes, making their way down to her quivering lips. "Daddy and Ed are gone, Casey said I'm not going to see them for a long time. And Nora and Lizzie left too... Do you think its because I lost Lizzie's soccer ball? I didn't mean to." Shaking her head, she sniffled. "And I said sorry to Ed for telling that girl that he already had a girl on the couch with him, I didn't mean to make him mad." Looking up at Emily, she wrinkled her nose while crying. "Emily, do you think they know I'm sorry? Do you think they'll come back if I promise not to do those things again?"

Reaching out, Emily pulled her up into her lap. "Oh Marti," she said, sadly. "They didn't leave on purpose, sweetie. They left because it was their time. It wasn't because of anything you did or said or anything like that. It was just time for them to go to heaven. And I know it hurts, because you never got to say goodbye and you never got to tell them things, but that doesn't mean they don't already know them." Shaking her head, she wiped the tears off Marti's cheeks. "And no, honey, you aren't going to see them for a long time, but they'll always be part of you. You can always love them and remember them."

"What if I forget them one day?" Marti wondered, biting her lip. "If I don't see them for a long time, I might forget them."

"No matter what happens, you will never forget them. There will be pictures to look at, stories to be told. Whenever you think you might be forgetting, all you have to do is look at a picture or talk to Casey or Derek, or even me and Sam. I don't think that will happen though, I think you'll always remember them," she said, smoothing her hair.

"So it's okay for Derek to love Casey," Marti asked, looking up at her hopefully. "Casey's not going to die if he does?"

Nodding, Emily smiled. "Yeah, it's okay for them to love each other."

"Good," Marti exclaimed, smiling. "Because I want to have them both until I leave," she said, nodding. "I want to see them every day until it's my turn to go to heaven," she told her. "Do you think they'll be there, Emily? Until I go to heaven."

Wiping at her tears, Emily nodded. "Yeah, Marti," she said, glancing over at the house next door with hope. "I think they'll be there for you."

* * *

Sam sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room, his hands on the sides of his face while he leaned forward on his knees. Casey was pacing in front of him, her arms crossed and her feet shuffling across the linoleum. She hadn't said a word since they entered, just biting on her lip and tearfully eyeing every doctor that came near them. 

Glancing over near the reception desk, his eyes widened when he saw who was standing there. Leaping out of his chair, he half ran over, shaking his head. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, sourly.

"I was called," the woman replied, glancing at him briefly.

"I don't think he'd appreciate you being here," Sam said, crossing his arms.

"I'm his mother," she replied, staring at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Of course he'll want me here."

"So you can bash him at every corner? No. You're just going to drive him to do it again," Sam shouted. Feeling a hand on his arm, Sam turned to see Casey looking up at him.

The woman stared at Casey, noticing the disarray and blood over her clothes. "You must be his girlfriend," Derek's mother said. "The man who called me said his girlfriend found him."

Casey stared at her blankly, before glancing up at Sam. "Is that who I think that is?" she asked, quietly.

"Abby Franklin," she said, holding her hand out. "Formerly Venturi," she told her, wrinkling her nose.

Casey glanced down at her hand, before frowning. "I'm sorry, but I really don't think now is the time for to visit Derek. He's in a very sensitive place right now, and given your history with him, I really think it's best if you stay away."

Dropping her head, she stared at Casey with disdain. "My history with him?" she asked, glowering. "Listen you little tart, I know my son better than his pathetic father does. What he needs is his mother to give him rules and boundaries. He wouldn't be in this mess had he grown up in my household."

Reaching out, Casey slapped the women hard across the face. "Don't you ever say anything bad about George," she spat, angrily.

Sam pulled Casey back so she didn't lunge at the woman in front of her, who was holding her cheek in shock.

"This is the reason you shouldn't be here," Sam told her, stiffly. "Derek lost his father, his brother, and most of his step family just days ago. Rules and boundaries wouldn't have stopped him from this; he was upset and hurting. Your yelling at him, belittling him, and telling him he isn't worthy wouldn't have helped him in the least," Sam shouted. "You may have given birth to him, but you sure as hell weren't his mother."

Standing up straight, Abby glared at each of them. "I don't have time for this; I'll just pick up Marti and hear from the hospital when Derek's been dealt with."

"Marti is staying with me," Casey told her, staring at her defiantly. "She's being taken care of now."

"I want my daughter," Abby said, her voice raising.

Stepping forward, Casey glared into her eyes. "Then I'll see you in court," she told her, lowly. "Because that little girl is staying with me and Derek."

Laughing indignantly, she shook her head. "You honestly think a couple seventeen year old kids are going to get custody of a five year old girl whose mother is still alive and willing to raise her? You must be kidding yourselves!" she exclaimed.

"First of all, we're eighteen, and Marti is six," she told her, frowning. "Second of all, when they find out about how verbally abusive you are, I'm sure they won't want you raising her. And lastly, there is nobody- NOBODY, who will ever love that little girl like Derek and me. And we will never let you get a hold of her! Do you understand?" she said, her voice loud and fierce.

Sam held her back from completely yelling in Abby's face, who was simply staring in anger and shock.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer," Derek's mother said, before turning and leaving the hospital.

Casey slipped slightly, her legs shaking beneath her. Sam held her up, directing her to one of the stiff plastic chairs to sit down. Kneeling down in front of her, he was about to say something to calm her down when a doctor approached them with a grim expression. "Are you the girl who called 911 for a Mr. Derek Venturi?" he asked, looking down at Casey.

Nodding, she bit her lip as tears began slipping from her eyes.

"He lost a great deal of blood," the man told her, his blue eyes an icy blue, making him appear cold. Wrinkles covered his face, making him look much older than he likely was. His brown hair was littered with grey strands all over the place, the stress of life and death getting to him. "We had to revive him twice," he continued, staring down at his clipboard. "Cases like these are always very hard to deal with. Talking to the friends and family of victims is incredibly hard. Suicide is one of the many leading killers of people his age." Shaking his head, he reached out to pat her hand. "There is only so much we can do to save the people we love. I understand that he recently lost a great deal of family members in the car accident a few days ago, which I'm assuming was the cause of his..."

Casey stared at him, her eyes still searching for the answer to her question. _Is he dead?_

"Uh Doctor?" Sam asked, staring at him with a frown. "Derek, is he... Has he..." Shaking his head, he stared at him with burning eyes. "Is he gone?" he choked out, scared of the reply he might get.

* * *

**A/N** _Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Please review, and I'll have another one up very soon. Thanks!_

**Drinking and driving -** _There are stupider things, but it's a very short list._

* * *


	9. o9o

**_For Marti_**

o9o

Many have said that when you die, your life passes by your eyes. Derek never really believed much in religion, it wasn't as if he went out of his way to go to Church. The only real connection he'd had with any God in the past had been silent prayers that his hockey games would end in his favor. Lately though, he'd been rather consumed with whether or not there was any such a thing as God. It was easy for him to say that there wasn't; that if there were, he would still have his family. However, that wasn't really fair, was it? Though Derek isn't exactly the most fair guy, he did understand that his deciding God was just a figment of people's imagination to make them feel better was something rather wrong.

He couldn't say whether there was such thing as a man watching over them all; someone who had created them, given them a world to expand as they would, and waited for their death to bring them to a place like heaven. He also couldn't say that he was really only there because of science; that man had been created from the slow mutation of other beings. He was not a man of religion or science; but rather a boy who had lost his way. He did not hold the answers to life in his grasp, even as it slipped away from him.

What he did hold though, was the vast memory of a boy who had been loved dearly. Whether it was death bringing it upon him, or sheer terror at actually leaving his corporeal body, he could not say. But as he lay there in the white sterile room, listening to the muffled conversations of doctors and the beeping of his life on a machine, he slipped into a painless unconsciousness. There, he was greeted with memories from when he was still just a little boy, from when his mind was just strong enough to start memorizing things.

He couldn't have been more than four really, just a tiny little guy. With a mop of messy brown hair and warm dark eyes that told of his past innocence. And there he stood, beside his beaming father, holding his large hand with his much tinier one. They walked through the hot sand, Derek's little feet walking twice as fast to keep up with his dad. The water was crashing against the ground beside them, a beautiful shade of greeny blue. Looking up, he grinned widely at the father that loved him so very much; the man that he admired with every fibre of his tiny little being. Turning his happy face down to him, George Venturi grinned at his son with what could only be called the love of a father. Scooping him up in his arms, he held him high in the air, above the earth where all the other children play. Building their sand castles and throwing pales of water at each other. They had nothing on Derek, because they didn't have George for their dad. And any child who wasn't George's could only be missing out on the best dad in the world.

It was a simple memory, nothing extraordinary or extravagant. Just a boy and his father, on the beach during a hot summer day. One filled with happy, fun moments between a son and his dad. Later they would have ice cream, they would play in the water, and George would carry Derek's tuckered out body back to the car before driving back into town to sleep in his warm bed. And he would stand at the door, watching him for moment before flicking the light off and closing the door. Nothing that would make people tell the story time after time, just a simple day with his dad. That's all Derek really wanted to remember, the moments where it was just him and George; father and son.

Another memory bombarded his eyes, his senses; one that he could still remember with his wide smirk and amused eyes. He stood in the backyard, a bat and a ball in his hands. A dark blue cap sat on his head, backwards, while he wore his already dirt marred baseball jersey. He had made it on to the team, just the day before, and was now going to play for a little while as he was rather bored. The sharp clunk of the door closing in the background alerted him that someone else had come to join him.

"Derek!" the excited voice of a little boy called out.

"What d'ya want Ed?" he asked, turning his head back to look at the younger boy. At eleven years old, Derek Venturi was far too cool to be hanging out with his six year old brother. It just wasn't done; some one could see him, and all his cool points would go down the drain. He was on the baseball team now, which would hold him over until hockey season. He couldn't let his team mates know that he was hanging out with his little brother.

Dressed in a red and white striped t-shirt and some baggy shorts, Edwin looked like he had dressed in his brother's clothes, rather than his own. Which wasn't entirely unrealistic, as he always seemed to try and copy Derek and his every move. "Will you teach me how?" he wondered, holding a much too large brown glove in his hand. His eyes sparkled with excitement and his smile bore a huge amount of hope.

"Not today kid," Derek replied, shrugging. "Maybe some other time."

Almost immediately little Edwin Venturi's face fell and his shoulders slumped. The huge glove hung down by his knees, making him appear even smaller as he trudged away. Derek didn't say anything, simply rolling his eyes at his pouting brother. Sighing, he glanced back at him. "Hey Ed?"

Turning around, Edwin stared at him, all of his previous happiness completely dissolved.

"You catch this ball, an' I'll teach ya how to play," he said, nodding.

"Really?" he asked, perking up.

"Yeah, but if ya don't, then ya leave me alone for the rest of the day. Got it?" he asked, tipping his head in question.

Nodding quickly, Edwin held his hand up and bent his knees. "Throw it, Derek! Throw it here! I'll catch it!" he exclaimed.

"You ready?" Derek asked, winding up his arm.

"Yeah!" he cried out, nodding. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay, close your eyes," Derek called out.

"How come?" Edwin wondered.

"Because that's how ya play, dummie," he replied, sighing.

"Okay," his little brother said, nodding. Completely trusting that his big brother was telling him the truth, he shut his eyes tightly, still holding the large glove in his hand.

"Remember, Ed, ya gotta catch it and then we'll play. 'Cause if ya catch it, it means you're cool enough to play with me, alright?" Derek called out, tossing the ball up into the air and catching it.

"Yeah," Edwin agreed. "Throw it here, Derek!"

"Okay, it's coming your way, don't open your eyes until I tell ya," he told him. Sighing, he ran over to his brother, pushing the ball into his hand with a little pressure, to make it feel like it flew at him. Then running back, he stood back where he was. "Nice catch, Ed!" he called out, sounding enthusiastic. "Open your eyes," he told him.

Opening his eyes, Edwin stared down into his glove, surprised to see the ball. "I did it, Derek! I did it! I'm cool enough to play with you, right? We can play now, right Derek?" he asked, excitedly.

"Yeah, little brother. We can play now," Derek said, picking the bat up. "Com'ere, I'll show you how to hold the bat," he told him, grinning.

Once again, it wasn't as if something completely spectacular had happened between them. Just one of those unknown moments where Derek had been a real brother. There were no secrets on how to pick up the hottest babe, no big tips on how to act cool. Just Derek being a brother to little Edwin. Forgetting about his popularity for a moment so he could play a simple game with his brother. And though nobody knew the story but him and his now deceased brother, it was a memory he held close to his heart, and always would. Even if it wasn't pumping blood through him anymore; even if he was about to meet his brother in whatever afterlife awaited him.

Things changed again and Derek was left sitting in his bedroom, sprawled out in bed, half asleep. The pitter-patter of footsteps made him roll over, opening one bleary eye. The creak of the door caused his head to turn to see who it was. Upon seeing no one, he frowned. Then, a small little body hopped up on to the bed, jumping around on his stomach and howling with the excitement only a three year old could muster. "Dewek, Dewek," Marti called out, grinning down at him with missing teeth. "Wake up! I want to have bwekfast!"

"De-RRR-ek," he pronounced. "Marti, say the R," he told her, sitting up.

"Will you make me pancakes?" she asked, ignoring his prompting.

"Sure," he said, now awake. Throwing the blanket off, he wrapped his arms around her and threw her over his shoulder.

Giggling, Marti beat on his back, shouting to be put down. "DeWek!" she exclaimed, chuckling. "Put me DOWN!"

"What do you say Princess Marti?" he asked, tickling her sides.

"NOW!" she yelled, grinning.

Shaking his head, Derek tickled the bottom of her feet. "Nope, that's not the magical word!"

"PANCAKES!" she exclaimed.

"All right, all right. I'll make you some pancakes," he said, rolling her over and holding her like a baby. "What kind?" he asked. "Blueberry?"

Frowning, she shook her head vehemently. "No bleubewwy's!"

"Okay," he said, sighing. "How about chocolate chip?"

"No," she said, pouting.

"Plain? With strawberries on top?"

"No," she told him, frowning. "No stwawbewwies!"

Sighing, Derek began rifling through the cupboards, looking for something to put in them. "There's nothing else then, Marti. Unless you want Smarties?" he asked, hopefully.

"SMARTIES!" she exclaimed, happily.

"Hey," Derek said, kneeling down by here. "Say that again," he told her.

"SMARTIES!" she shouted, grinning.

"Again," he said, slowly smiling.

"SMARTIES!"

"Derek!" George shouted. "Will you stop her yelling, please? Some of us were still sleeping!"

"Yeah, yeah," he called back shaking his head. "You said the R," he told her, grinning. "You said the R, Marti!"

"Smarties," she told him, again.

"Now say Derek," he prompted.

Sighing, she stared at him before shaking her head.

"Com'on Smarti- I mean, Marti," he said, blinking and frowning.

"I like that," she said, happily. "I like that Smerek," she told him, smiling.

"Whad'you call me?" he asked, amused.

"Smerek," she told him, nodding. "I'm Smarti and you're Smerek!"

"Princess Smarti," he repeated, picking her up and grabbing the small box of colourful candies. "And her Smerek," he said, agreeing.

The little girl meant more to him than anything. During most of her life, he had been the guy walking her through everything. Her first word was 'brother.' Not 'daddy', or 'mummy', or even some kind of food that she liked. It was 'brother,' because he was the one she spent her time giggling with. He tickled her when she wanted to be, he made her laugh when she was sad, he kissed her goodnight every time before bed, and when she wanted to be cheered up or needed someone there, she went to him. Because he was her big brother; her Smerek. There was no Smarti without Smerek, and vice versa really. There was nothing, no one in the world, that could mean more than Marti. She was his little sister, the baby of the family, the princess in his life.

His mind whirled around him, throwing out another memory for him to think over with the worry of a boy who thought he was dying, but the interest of a guy who hoped his life had meant something. He stood, just five years old, in the center of a park with his hands stuffed in small jean pockets. His mom was currently reading somewhere, but he couldn't remember where he'd last seen her. She told him not to venture off, in that voice that she uses when she's really not paying attention but believes she should be scolding him or laying down rules. All he had wanted to do was play on the slide, but he found the playground was much farther than anticipated. Upon realizing he had gone too far, he simply stopped where he was, looking around for his mother or someone who resembled a mother.

"Hey," came a voice from behind him.

Turning around, Derek was met by a sandy haired, blue eyed boy wearing a grey toque. His arms were crossed and a sheepish smile sat on his face. "I'm Sam," he said, holding out his hand.

"Derek," he told him, taking his hand and shaking it.

"What're ya doing?' Sam asked, looking around.

"My mum said I could go on the slide," he told him, sighing. "But I dunno where it is."

"Com'on, I'll show ya," Sam told him, waving his arm and beginning to run in the direction Derek had been coming from. Hurrying after him, Derek pushed to keep up with his speed, looking around to see if his mom was anywhere nearby. A short moment later, Derek found himself standing in front of the playground he had been looking for. Grinning excitedly, he ran over to the slide and hurried down it. "Thanks," he called out to the boy.

Shrugging, Sam walked over to the monkey bars, hopping up and wrapping his arms around one to dangle above the ground.

Staring at him curiously, Derek walked over and hopped onto the other end of the monkey bars. "I bet I can hold on longer," he said, smirking.

"Okay," Sam agreed, nodding.

For the rest of the afternoon, Derek and Sam ran around the playground, betting one another who could run up the slide faster, who could make it across all the monkey bars without falling, who could fit the most sand in their pockets without their pants falling from the weight. It wasn't until Derek's mother finally found him, saying it was time to go as she had finished her book and wanted a coffee, that Derek was forced to leave his new friend behind.

"See ya Sam," he called back, waving his hand.

"If ya come back to the park tomorrow, I bet you I can hang upside down from the monkey bars longer," the boy had called back, readjusting his little toque.

"Nu uh, I can!" Derek shouted back.

"Bye Derek!" Sam yelled to him, waving before he ran back over to the slide.

He and Sam had clicked almost immediately, finding that there was really no one else that got along with them quite like each other. From that day forward, Derek met Sam in the park. And as the years passed and his mother stopped taking him, or his dad was too busy, he'd go on his own or they'd find a way to run into each other. Whenever he was upset about his parents fighting, he would go to the park and wait for his friend. Whenever he needed to talk to someone, because his mom was telling him he was doing something wrong, he'd go to the park and tell Sam. Life went on, not always in a good way, but there was never a shortage of days that Derek would spend with Sam.

By the time he was nine, Derek's dad moved them into a new house, when his mother had left them. And down the road, over a couple blocks, lived Sam. Together, they would start walking to school and hanging out more often. By the time they were fifteen and Derek was faced with a step family, he had known Sam for ten years, and there was absolutely nothing that could break the two apart.

Life changed at fifteen, Derek didn't know whether it was good or bad, but it was certainly different. He had often told people that it sucked; that he hated his step family. But really, there were many moments with them that had turned out good. Nora wasn't his mother, but she was much better than the biological one who continued to try and run his life. Nora was a kind women, rather frazzled with having so many kids to care for, but a good person over all. And when things in his life were confusing, he could always rely on her to help him through it; though he'd never admit that to anyone who asked.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Derek ran his hands through his hair, feeling completely on edge and tapping his foot. There was a knock at his door, but he didn't answer it, he didn't even hear it. Shortly after, there was a sag in the bed beside him and he turned to see the concerned blue eyes of his step mother.

Sighing, Derek shook his head. "Look, I really don't want to talk right now. I'll warm dinner up later," he told her, turning his head away.

"Is this about Abby?" she asked, tipping her head. "If you want to talk about it, Derek, I'm here to listen."

"That's really nice or you Nora, pulling the concerned step mother act, but I'm really not interested," he said, callously. Seeing her hurt expression, he exhaled loudly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to... Look, I just really want to be alone."

"That's fine," Nora told him, patting his shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you. And I'm not doing this because I'm your step mother. I'm doing this because I think you need to talk to someone," she told him, smiling briefly. Standing up from the bed, she walked to the door, opening it.

"She doesn't love me," Derek called out, his voice rather low.

Turning around quickly, Nora shook her head. "Oh no Derek, I'm sure she does. She's just-"

"No," he told her, seriously. Turning, he stared at her, completely stone faced. "You are a real mother," he told her. "I've seen you with Casey, with Lizzie, even with Marti and Edwin. You love them. You really do. And it's not just that fake love either, that people pretend to feel for cousins or acquaintances. You really love those kids, even the two that aren't yours. But Abby?" he told her, shaking his head. "She doesn't love me, or them. She loves the idea of saying she's a mother," he explained, glancing away. "When she looks at me, she sees a screw up. A kid who didn't turn out to be someone she can brag about. And that's fine," he said, swallowing. "That's fine, she can hate me, or yell at me, or tell me she wanted a better son. I don't care," he told her, adamantly. "But she cannot treat Marti and Ed like that. Because they don't deserve to have to go through what I did. They deserve-" Turning, he stared at her. "Someone like you," he said, quietly. "A real mother." Blinking a few times, he turned from her again, hiding his tears. "Someone who loves them."

Reaching out, Nora wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him slowly so he leaned against her. Turning his head, he buried it against her shoulder. "What did I do?" he mumbled, shaking his head. "Why does she hate me?"

"Shh," Nora murmured, rubbing his back. "You didn't do anything wrong," she assured, holding him tightly. "I don't know Abby, Derek. I don't know much about you life growing up with her. But I do know this," she said, quietly.

His shoulders shook as he tried his best not to cry, to hide the pain that haunted him for so long.

"I know that I will always love you, like the son I never had," she told him, seriously. "And if you'll accept me, I'd love to be the mother who loves you. That's not to say I'll replace anyone, I won't overstep my boundaries. But no matter what the situation, I will always be here for you."

Slowly, Derek hugged her back, squeezing her almost as if he was sure she would disappear. "Thank you," he mumbled, almost too quietly for even him to hear.

This bond was kept well hidden, as Derek never believed it was vital for anyone else to know that he had grown rather close to his step mother. Finding her to be the parent he had always wished his real mother would turn in to; though Abby didn't seem to realize she wasn't exactly winning anyone over with her methods of parenting. He didn't go to Nora as often as perhaps he should have; instead only seeking refuge in her motherly embrace when things got to be too much. When he felt like Casey hated him while he loved her, or when Abby was becoming too much to listen to. He didn't have to tell her why, she simply hugged him, telling him things would get better. That was all he needed really, a short hug from someone who truly cared.

It wasn't as if his relationship with George had been exactly father-son perfection over the past years. They had grown apart, as every teenage boy and father do, but that wasn't to say that he loved his father any less than the day on the beach when he was just a young boy. They had just grown up, become different people, had separate lives. But how Derek felt about his dad, how he idolized him in some ways, had never changed. There were days when he still went to his dad, seeking answers to life's questions that he couldn't learn from feeling up a random girl on the couch.

There were even a few memories of Lizzie that had stuck out; though the two of them hadn't exactly been close. Moments where she would chastise him on his behavior toward Casey, or ask him to play soccer with her in the back. There was also that time where she had questioned him on how she could tell if a boy liked her; only coming to him because he had flirted with so many girls himself. While that had been a rather awkward conversation, he still enjoyed it.

Clearing her throat, Lizzie stood nervously by his desk, fiddling with her fingers.

"Yeah?" Derek asked, glancing up from his computer screen.

"I've come to ask you a question," she told him, nodding. Her regularly pale face had gone even more white, making her freckles stand out drastically.

"So ask," Derek said, leaning back in his chair.

"It's rather personal," Lizzie explained, looking away.

"Then why are you asking me? Where's Casey?" he wondered, cocking his brow and frowning.

"Well, you see, it's about... boys," she told him, blushing.

Derek's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Uh, maybe you should be asking Nora about this," he said, hurrying to the door, ushering her out.

Sighing, Lizzie ignored his moving hands and shook her head. Plopping down on his bed, her shoulders sagged and her head fell forward. "See, there's this boy..." she told him.

"Why are you telling me this?" Derek asked, trying to stop the panicked tone from becoming too evident.

"Because," Lizzie said, glancing up at him. "You've liked a lot of girls, I figured you could tell me if he likes me."

Sighing slightly, Derek's shoulders fell with relief. He was completely terrified that the conversation would revolve around sex, kissing, or the three bases he suddenly never wanted her to even know about, let alone experience. A surge of brotherly protectiveness ran through him, causing him to frown. "Aren't you rather young to be thinking of boys?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"I'm thirteen, I think it's normal," she replied, glowering up at him.

"Fine," Derek said, sitting down in his computer chair and wheeling it over. "So tell me about this boy," he said, grudgingly.

"Well, he has black hair and blue eyes, and he's the captain of his soccer team, and-"

Holding up his hand, Derek cut her off. "I meant, tell me what he does to make you think he likes you," he explained.

"Oh," Lizzie said, blushing. "Well, whenever he sees me, he tugs on my hair and tells me that I should be on his team, because then he'd actually have a winning team. And, last week, he came to my game and he cheered for me really loudly; only me. And then yesterday, we were watching TV and he passed me a pop, and well our hands touched and he kind of blushed. But I'm not sure, because there was a horror movie on and the screen was flashing with blood, so the red may have been from the show, not his touching my hand. And then there was that time that Becky asked him out, but he said liked someone else and then he smiled at me. But I'm not sure it was me he was smiling at, because I was standing with two other girls. And one of those girls is Jessie Kard, and she's like the most popular girl in the school, and she's really pretty!" she told him in a rush, inhaling deeply.

"Uh..." Derek stared at her with wide eyes, surprised she was able to talk that fast. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Well, I'm the only girl he ever talks to and he just called to ask me if I want to go to a movie with him," she said with a worried expression. "So I don't know if he's asking me on a date, or if he's just asking me as a friend!"

"Dress nicely and wait to see what he does," Derek told her with a shrug. "If he likes you and it's a date, he'll take your hand or put his arm around you in the theater," he assured. "Do you want him to like you?" he wondered, his eyes thinning.

Smiling rather nervously, she nodded.

"Okay, so the kid sounds like he at least has a crush on you. If you like him, I say go to the movie and see what happens," he said, nodding and standing up. "Just don't kiss him," he told her.

"Why?" she asked, standing with him and staring up at him.

"You're thirteen," he said, crossing his arms. "You should not be kissing some horny little thirteen year old kid!"

Rolling her eyes, Lizzie shook her head. "How old were you when you got your first kiss?"

Clearing his throat, Derek walked to the door. "I've gotta do some... homework. Go get ready for your _date_!"

Shrugging, Lizzie walked to the door. "Homework," she repeated, looking up at him. "Not only is that completely not believable, but I saw the pictures you were looking at from your digital camera," she told him, cocking her eyebrow. "That one of Casey makes her look quite pretty," she said, smiling. "I can see why it's your desktop."

"Bye Lizzie," Derek said, glowering.

"See ya Derek, and thanks for the advice:" she said, nodding as she left.

Derek wasn't sure how many members of the Venturi-MacDonald family knew about Derek's feelings for Casey, but he was fairly sure that everyone had at least an inkling that it wasn't really a step brotherly vibe he was giving out with her. There were so many moments with Casey that he wanted to think of right then, but his mind seemed to be picking them out for him, not letting him decide.

"God Derek, you are so infuriating," Casey yelled, her face flushed with anger. Her arms were waving around in the air, as she stood in front of him, shouting in his face.

"I'm infuriating? Oh please! Casey, you're the one who won't stop bugging me about that stupid guy," Derek shouted, feeling like putting another hole in his bedroom wall.

"I really liked him," Casey told him, shaking her head. "You had no right! No right at all!"

"No right? I had every right to punch him," Derek assured.

"Why? Why Derek? What did he ever do to you?" she asked, pushing his shoulder. "Huh? He didn't do anything to you. You just felt like butting into my life again. Like usual! Like always!" she exclaimed.

"That guy was a complete jackass! What could you even see in him? His head was stuck so far up your ass, I'm surprised you can walk!" he yelled, shaking his head with rage.

"He was not a suck up, he was simply nice," she said, shaking her head. "You wouldn't know anything about that though, because all you ever do is put people down. Your whole life is filled with making people feel bad! Because they're not cool enough, because they're not up to your standards!"

"No Casey, I only make the people who aren't good enough feel bad. That guy wasn't good enough for you," he shouted, his face now red with fury. "That guy was just using you, so maybe for just one minute, you could actually pay attention to what **I** have to say, instead of jumping to your stupid conclusions," he screamed.

Without waiting, he walked forward, making her step back. "Sam and I had been playing basketball in the gym. I was in the locker room, changing before hockey practice, when I overheard your stupid little boyfriend talking to Cory, some kid who thinks he's cool but is really annoying. And your perfect little Brett kept going on and on about how he had scored with the _grade grubber_, that he had finally managed to pull the stick out of your ass and get you to loosen up. So I walked around the corner and I beat the shit out of him," Derek told her, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy.

"That stupid little jackass has nothing on you. And you can yell and scream at me all you want, but I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because I'm not. He deserved it! And you know what? He's never going to say it again. So you don't have to worry about the entire school hearing about perfect little Casey MacDonald sleeping with that loser Brett Prescott. Because big bad Derek saved you from ruining yourself! Once again!" he told her, backing away after realizing what he'd told her.

Staring at him with shocked, wide eyes, she slowly shook her head. "No," she said, quietly. "No, he wouldn't have said that."

"Right, I'm the one whose lying," he said, letting out a derisive laugh. "You know, it's not like I sit around and think up new ways to make you cry and yell at me. I just happened to be around when your stupid little boyfriend was spouting off junk that you wouldn't want anyone to hear."

"You _**are**_ the liar," she said, pushing his shoulder. "You're always lying. It's all you ever do to me. You push me and lie to me just to make me angry. To push me over the edge and make me crazy," she screamed, tears spilling from her eyes. "Brett is a nice guy, while you're- you're-"

"I'm what, Case?" he asked, walking forward and wrapping his hands around her upper arms. "Huh? What am I Case? What have I ever done to you that's ever made you think that I could be anywhere near as bad as a guy who lies to people? Telling them about moments between you and him that are supposed to be just between you and him. I wouldn't do that. So tell me, whose the bad guy? The guy who beat the shit out of the liar, or the liar himself. And if you haven't guessed it yet, I'm not the liar!"

"No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "You are the liar, Derek! You're standing here, claiming to be the good guy. But what good have you ever done for me? You don't care about me," she reminded, scowling. "You don't care about how much it hurts to think that someone's done that. All you care about is how it's going to reflect on you when people think your step sister is a SLUT!" she screamed, letting out a sob.

"I don't care?" he asked, shaking his head. "I don't care?" he repeated, much louder. "God Casey, you are so stupid!" he shouted. "If I didn't care, would I do this?" Leaning in, Derek pressed his lips against her, his hands lifting from her arms to thread through her hair and hold her face against his. She's didn't reciprocate at first, simply standing there in shock. But a moment later, she responded to his tongue as it ran over her closed lips, letting her mouth open to grant him entrance. However, as incredible as their first kiss was, it ended just as furiously as it started.

Pushing him away roughly, Casey let out a loud choked noise, staring at him as if he were insane and waving her hands. "You are a real bastard, you know that Derek?" she told him, wiping her eyes and running from his room.

Confused and rather hurt, Derek simply watched her go, deciding that he may have taken the wrong approach at admitting his feelings. Knowing that she probably felt like he was either playing a trick on her or even taking advantage of her in her emotional state, he felt like the name she had called him. All the same though, he couldn't help but smirk; it was one helluva kiss.

The memories were fading now, becoming a blur of white and yellow, like a bright light shining in his eyes. Well, heaven or not, apparently there was such thing as seeing a light before you die. He felt it rather corny overall, seeing as it was rather overplayed in movies and the like. But it wasn't as if he could choose how God, or the lack of, decided to show him his way to the afterlife. What he did know, and what he rather liked, was that he was going to die feeling refreshed. The memories he had been warmed with, had been enveloped with, had reminded him of how completely wonderful his life had been.

Though, as much as he loved relishing in them, he couldn't help but be angry with himself for ending any way there could've been more memories. One's involving Marti as she grew up, becoming a teenager and one day an adult. Seeing her off to high school, to college, to her new life. Helping her grow up into the bright, beautiful person he knew she'd be. Reminding her of the days she might not remember, involving their dad and brother. Telling her stories of when she was just a little girl, of how Smarti and Smerek came to be. He wouldn't get that chance, he was just like his father now. Absent from her life like all the rest, leaving her to be raised by an eighteen year old girl who would no doubt love her like her own daughter. He only hoped Casey listened to him when he told her to run, to get out of the province, the country, and raise her like he would.

Casey. His beautiful angel of mercy. He had been nearly passed out shortly after the paramedics had picked him up, but he was almost sure that she had said something along the lines of loving him. It could've been his imagination though; it was likely his mind playing tricks on him. She had never shown signs of caring for him the way he so dearly cared for her. But he could die a little light hearted now, knowing that at least she knew the truth. It wasn't a joke, or a way of taking advantage of her. He had loved her for over a year, and he'd continue to no matter where he went. Be it heaven or complete nothingness; even if he disappeared completely, with no place to go after death. One thing would remain and that was his love for her.

---

**A/N** _I am so terribly sorry for keeping this from you for so long. I got incredibly busy, but that was a right mean cliffhanger I left you all on. Please accept my apologies and I promise I'll never leave ya'll hanging like that again. Please review, I'd like to know what you all think. Thanks for reading _: )


	10. o10o

**_For Marti_**

o10o

Upon blinking his eyes, he found that the light of heaven or the beyond was actually just a very annoying hospital light situated above his head. Now that he was conscious, he could hear the irritating beep of the machine, stating that he was indeed alive. Blinking at the incessant light shining in his eyes, he tipped his head down to stop it from giving him a headache. By doing so, he allowed himself to see the room he was lying in. Sitting in a chair beside his bed, with her head beside his hand, was a sleeping Casey MacDonald. Staring at her, he felt something hard rise into his throat. She apparently hadn't changed, as she was dressed in a lot of his blood.

Hearing a noise, he glanced up to see Sam standing in the doorway, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee. He breathed a sigh of relief and Derek was almost completely sure that there were tears shining in his eyes. He almost ran to the other side of the bed, staring down at him in shock. "You're awake," he said, his voice a choked whisper.

"How long have I been out?" he wondered, frowning.

Lifting his arm, he stared down at his watch. "Uh, I picked Casey up from Emily's at like one, so you've been out for thirteen hours. Four of that involved doctors trying to resuscitate you," he informed him. "The rest you've just been recuperating."

"Have you been here the whole time?" he asked, noticing his voice was dry and croaky.

Sam nodded, putting his coffee down on the end table and grabbing a paper cup before he hurried to the bathroom to fill it with water. He brought it back to Derek to help his sore throat and then glanced at Casey who was still fast asleep. "I called Emily earlier to make sure she could watch Marti and tell her that you were all right," he told him. "I tried to get Casey to go home and change but she refused to." Shaking his head, he let out a strangled noise. "You scared the hell out of us."

Nodding, Derek looked down, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry," he told him, feeling rather uncomfortable. "I- I didn't mean for it to go that far. I just- I was confused and really pissed off."

"You should've called me, or talked to Casey, or just- Something other than what you did," Sam told him, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily. "God when Emily called, I- I was so worried that I actually started running to your house before I realized I had a car," he told him. Grabbing a chair, he sat down beside him and ran his hands over his face. He let out a sad sigh, before his eyes focused on Casey. "She was laying there in Emily's arms, not moving or talking, it almost looked like she was the one who... died. I just picked her up and put her in the car, acting like the more responsible one. And she just sat there, staring out the window, silently crying," he told him, in a shocked whisper. "She noticed that I was crying but not making any noise or saying anything and made a comment about how if men were able to talk more she wouldn't find them bleeding and dying."

Derek's eyes had moved away from Sam to stare at Casey, her eyes looked puffy as if she had been crying in her sleep. He hated himself for causing her the pain and shock she must've been going through. He wanted to reach out and make her feel better, to reassure her that he was fine, but he didn't. He couldn't.

"She told me you finally admitted you loved her," he said, quietly. "Nice timing, by the way."

Shaking his head, Derek sighed. "I really thought it was the last time I'd ever see her," he admitted, sadly. "I didn't want to... I wanted her to know that I didn't hate her, but actually felt the complete opposite of that. I just wanted her to know that she meant something to me and I wasn't doing it to hurt or abandon her." Feeling his eyes fill up, Derek closed them to stop the emotion he didn't want Sam to see. "I've loved her for so long," he said with a sad chuckle. "I was so afraid that she'd never know."

Sam nodded, silently. There was a long pause then, where Derek tried to get his emotions under control and Sam tried to let him think that he hadn't noticed his out of character show of care.

"You mother was here," Sam told him, looking back over at his face. "She said some things and in the end Casey slapped her and told her that not only was she not allowed near you but the next time she saw Marti it would be during a custody battle at court."

Sighing, Derek half smirked. "I told her to leave the country not go to court," he said with a snicker. "But she can't do anything that isn't _right_ and legal."

"What's going to happen now?" Sam wondered, sighing. "I mean, are you and Casey really going to battle your mom for custody of Marti."

"I didn't think she'd even want Marti," he admitted, his eyes staring far off. "She was never really a motherly woman. She just sort of yelled at us when it was _needed_ and ignored us the rest of the time."

"But will the court allow you, at eighteen years old, to take care of a six year old kid?" Sam asked, rationally.

"I can't let her raise Marti, she'll kill her spirit," Derek said, stiffly. "I'm her brother, I've practically been raising her anyway. Dad was always too busy and mom... never cared. Nora was there and she helped, but I was the one who taught her the alphabet, who played princess with her, and helped her with her school work. I taught her what one plus one was, and how to brush her teeth, and I even helped her get over the 'What's under the bed?' fear she had for awhile." Shaking his head, his face darkened. "I'm not going to let Abby ruin her by setting down rules and regulations for every little thing. Not letting her enjoy herself, or taking her to the beach, or making her pancakes. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to make sure that Marti stays with me."

"This may not look good for you though, D," Sam reminded, moving his hands around. "You're listed as trying to commit suicide, they're not going to want to give you a kid."

"I'll explain myself, see a shrink, whatever. I'll prove to them that I can raise her, that I'm not incapable of being there. Look, I admit I made a mistake, but I'm not suicidal. I was just messed up, but I'm over it. Kind of," Derek said, sounding rather defeated. "Anybody in my position would likely do the same," he reminded, shaking his head. "I was just too overwhelmed with things, but I think I can handle it now."

Sam nodded, he seemed to know that it was a subject Derek wasn't very interested in talking about. Instead, his eyes darting down to the brunette beside him. "She hasn't eaten," he told him. "I tried to get her to eat something earlier, after the doctor told us that you had made it through and they stabilized you. But she kept saying that she had eaten before it all happened and that she wasn't hungry."

Derek sighed, frowning down at her. "I don't want to wake her up." Swallowing, he shook his head. "How disappointed in me do you think she is?"

"I don't think she is," Sam told him, shaking his head. "I think she was just worried. She might yell or scream when she wakes up, but I think she understands why you did it. It just hurt her to think of losing you too."

"I really thought I was gone," Derek told him, his hand lightly running over her hair as it splayed over his leg. "I had all of these memories flashing in my mind and there was this corny white light going on," he said with a snort. "But then I realized I was just passed out in a hospital bed."

"I'm glad you didn't die," Sam said, quietly. "Well, actually you did, twice, but you came back," he told him, smiling a little. "I don't know what would've happened if you were gone too."

"Girls would mourn forever and a hockey stadium would be named after me," he tried to joke.

"You're like my brother," Sam told him, seriously. "I've known you so long, that you're like my only real family." Inhaling deeply, he shook his head and closed his eyes. "We were five Derek, when we met," he reminded, his voice cracked and emotional. "I've known you for thirteen years, that's like Edwin's entire life," he said, letting out a shuddering breath.

"And when we pulled up to the Hospital, I could see it in Casey. She was sure- Sure that she had lost you, that you were dead. And all I could think was that you were pissed off because you lost your brother and you dad, but what about me? I was losing a brother right that minute and it wasn't because of some guy driving drunk. It was because you didn't care enough about the people who were still alive to stick around. You committed suicide because the rest of us weren't good enough for you," he told him, letting out a sob. Wiping his face, he glanced up at him, annoyed with himself for being emotional. "And you can laugh right now, you can tell me to stop being a sap, but I don't care. Because I could've lost my best friend today and he was too fucking stupid to realize that there is no Sam without Derek."

Swallowing, he wiped his eyes again and let out a snort. "Do you remember the pledge we made when we were nine?" Derek didn't reply right away, so he went on to recite it. "_Derek Venturi and Sam James do swear to always be best friends. Or at least until they die in a really, really bloody hockey accident. And they'll always hang out at the park, 'cause it's their favorite place, 'cause it's where they met. And no matter what anybody says, they'll play on a pro hockey team together. Brothers for life._" He chuckled, his tears still falling, but now quietly.

"I- I'm really sorry," Derek told him, shaking his head. "I wasn't thinking and I never meant to make people think that they weren't just as important as my dad and Ed," he said, quietly. "You, Casey, and Marti, you're all my family," he admitted, nodding. "Well Casey's not in that way that would make it gross for me to love her. Besides Marti, you're the closest thing I've got to living family right now." Reaching out, he shoved Sam's shoulder. "I messed up, I didn't think. But you are my brother, Sam, and you mean just as much as Ed and my dad do."

Nodding, Sam half smiled but didn't say anything right away. "Are you hungry? I could go get you something to eat," he offered. "I should probably call Emily too, she told me to let her know as soon as you woke up."

"Yeah," Derek replied, nodding. "I haven't had anything to eat since this morning."

"I'll be back in a little while then," he said, standing up. "There are some vending machines and a cafeteria that might be open on the first floor. Hopefully Emily will be too tired to ask a lot of questions and I can just tell her that you're awake and all right."

"Sure," Derek said, leaning back in the bed.

After Sam left, Derek watched Casey for a few minutes. He had lied slightly to Sam, he wasn't completely all right. He was still pretty messed up over losing his family, but he was sure that he wasn't going to cut himself up again. Lifting his arms, he untaped the gauze over them to peer inside at his carved up limbs. There were dark stitches holding the skin together, he could tell immediately that they would scar and the dark sadness inside of him was happy because of it. He had royally screwed up, but in some weird way it kind of needed to happen. While he was still hurting over his family, he had managed to scare himself enough to snap him out of his depression, and though he'd never recommend it, he wouldn't take it back. He would, however, take back the pain he had caused Casey.

Casey. A new problem all on its own. Yes, he had finally admitted he loved her, but what did that mean? He could see the brown stains of his life all over her skin, her clothes. He could remember the tears that had poured like her ocean eyes were emptying completely. He could see the pain etched into ever inch of her face and feel the way her body shook at knowing that he was bleeding to death right in front of her. It really wasn't a place to start a relationship, nor was it something he wanted her to remember him by. But he had said those words, he had admitted his feelings, he couldn't take that back now, could he?

It was stupid of him, he knew. To think that after all that had happened, he should try and push her away. But so many things made it more clear. She had told Abby that they were going to go to court in a custody battle. If the law wasn't on their side because he was eighteen and his mother was still alive, then they certainly wouldn't be after knowing he had committed suicide. He couldn't let Marti be raised by Abby and Casey likely wasn't willing to run away with him and Marti, making them out to be criminals and kidnappers. He couldn't give up his sister to his monster of a mother though; there was no way he'd allow it.

Then there was the added fact that Casey would likely never be able to get past seeing him lying in his own blood, being covered by it as she tried to help him. She would never be able to look at him without radiating some kind of pain. And for all he knew, she might just be humoring him and his feelings, feeling sorry for his depression and attempt on his life. So she'd submit to being with him for awhile, getting his hopes up without meaning to, trying to stave off the pain until he was well enough to be alone. He couldn't let that happen; he wouldn't be an interruption for her. He wanted to love her, to have her love him back. He wanted to kiss her without be yelled at or slapped. He wanted so much more than she was really willing to give him.

He was given a new chance at life and he wasn't going to mess it up. He loved Casey, more than he could imagine. But more than his feelings, more than whatever he wanted, he needed to make sure his little Smarti was taken care of. As her Smerek, he had to keep her from living the life he had with Abby. If that meant leaving the country, then so be it. A custody battle would only end badly and he couldn't let that happen. It was final then, after the funeral, he and Marti were going to leave. And as for Casey, well...

"You're awake," her soft voice ran over him like a piece of chocolate melting in his mouth. Warm, soothing, but leaving behind a need for more when it was gone. "I was so worried. I didn't know what to do so I went to Emily, and she called Sam." Tears slipped from her eyes, but he could tell that they were happy, not like the one's he had witnessed while she sat cradled in his arms at the house. "It's good to see you again, sans blood and tears," she told him, wiping her face with a chuckle. "There's- There's something I wanted to tell you."

Sam had already told him the whole story and he assumed she was just going to inform him of what happened between her and his mother. Swallowing, he stared into her beautiful blue eyes, only to say the hardest thing possible. "I- I don't love you," he told her, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

oTBCo

**A/N** Hi everybody! Really sorry that not only is this short, but that it's been so long since I posted. Six days, I think. Really sorry about that. I'll try and post another chapter soon. Forgive me, I've been bogged down with things.

_"Why do you think he died?" He sat across from her, staring out in deep thought._

_"Because a drunk driver hit him," she replied, callously. Twisting in her computer chair, she glared as she felt tears surface in her eyes._

_"No," her father told her, shaking his head with remorse. "Because it was his time. Because there are forces that we can't control in this world."_

_"So his death was because of some force that nobody can control?" she asked, snorting. Wiping her tears, she shook her head. "I choose to stick with my reason."_

_"Sweetheart, there are times in our life that will always get us down," he said, shaking his head. "And for years, you are going to remember Thad. You are going to cry for him, you are going to wish that things were different and pray that you were either with him, or that he was with you. But you can't live a life wishing for things that won't happen." Sighing, he stared at her with a frown, trying to explain it to her. "You loved Thad, didn't you?"_

_"Of course I loved him, he was my best friend," she replied, her voice thick with tears._

_"And I'm sure Thad loved you. Would he want you to live this life? Would he want you to cry it all away? To spend your days wishing things were different?" he wondered, already knowing the answer._

_"What does it matter? He's not here," she replied, sniffling._

_"No, he's not," he admitted, sadly, staring down for a moment. Lifting his eyes, he stared at her. "So shouldn't you do your best to live this life for him?" Reaching out, he patted her hand, unable to give her the understanding she so desperately needed. "I believe in God, and I believe in Heaven. I believe that your friend had gone on to a place that is much better than the one we're living in."_

_"I want him here with me," she breathed, unable to speak over the emotion caught in her throat._

_"I know you do, but this is how it is," her dad said, shaking his head. "It hurts, it will for a long time. But think of it this way- that story you're writing, about the family that dies in a car accident. The one where readers say they can relate, that maybe you've even helped them because you understand. You wouldn't be able to write that if this didn't happen to you. You wouldn't be able to help them, if you didn't go through the same thing."_

_"I'd rather have Thad than a story," she replied, her damp eyes raising to stare at him angrily._

_"From everything comes a gift," he told her, simply. "You may not see it that way, but they might."_

Please review, thank you all for reading.

**BigDaddyThaddy**


	11. o11o

**_For Marti_**

o11o

"I- I don't love you," he told her, his words striking her heart as if he had stabbed her.

Casey had been about to admit that she loved him too, seeing as she was sure he hadn't heard her when he was being taken away. Four words; that was all it took to completely break her. Out of everything; losing her family, finding that she couldn't eat because her stomach twisted into knots at the simple thought, knowing that she was lost without Marti and Derek, there was only one good thing to come out of it all. It had taken a long time for her to accept that she had felt something for her step brother; she fought with herself, not just about the morality of having feelings for a boy who she was supposed to consider family, but because of his reputation. He had epitomized all that she hated about men in the modern era; with their pig headed conceited ways and beliefs on how flimsy the title relationship really was.

Finally, when she gave in to her feelings and accepted that she had fallen for Derek Venturi, he goes ahead and breaks her heart. And it wasn't just a run-of-the-mill broken heart either, she was sure that it had been shattered. After everything she had gone through with him, not just in the last 24 hours, but over the days since their family had been killed. She was there when he felt worthless, she was there when he was broken and hurt, and what did she get for her never ending concern? Nothing but four words and a look of pity before he tore his eyes from her.

Inhaling deeply, she took her cue. "Right," she said, her voice coming out crisp, hiding the despair that ripped at the strings of her heart. "It was stupid of me to think that you could actually be honest with me. Not even in those moments where you thought you were dying," she said, more to herself than to him. He flinched, but he didn't turn back; not even to fight, which part of her had been hoping for. Swallowing, she shook her head, keeping the tears at bay. She opened her mouth to say more, but found her throat had closed off.

Turning, she stared at the exit for a moment before feeling her feet dart towards it. She just missed barreling Sam over, but because she couldn't say anything, she shook her head, her tears slipping out as she simply ran away. She could hear him shouting her name, calling out for her before he was shushed madly by a nurse. Shaking her head, Casey made her way out of the hospital, pushing herself to run as fast as she could, more than she could.

Her feet slapped against the cold pavement as she continued on her escape, tears streaming from her face and arms swinging by her sides. She could hear the rain water beneath her shoes, making squishing noises but she blocked everything out, pushing herself to go faster; to get away, as far as she could. It was late, too late for busses to be running. The street lamps shone down on her, showering the pavement in thick circles. She could feel sweat forming on her forehead but she ignored it, inhaling deep gusts of air and making her feet jump in front of her quicker.

She passed streets, never checking to see if vehicles were coming; she assumed it was too late and really didn't care. She didn't know where she was going or what she was expecting to accomplish, she just knew she had to keep on running. The city surrounded her, bright flashing lights all over, from 'Closed' signs and 24 hour junk food stores. A burst of cold wind hit her, cooling her face and chilling her pumping hands. Had she been paying any attention to what was going on around her, she would've realized that she was freezing; it way cold out, almost enough to cause snow. She wasn't wearing a coat or anything to keep herself warm, but instead a half-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans.

The tears poured down her cheeks like a rushing waterfall; only increasing when she'd remember his words. _I don't love you_, he said. He didn't love her; not one bit. She was Casey MacDonald, the girl who lived to ruin his schemes and one-up him in everything. If there was anything he wanted from her it was to take her down a peg, which he always managed to do. Especially with how he had thrown her off when their angry encounters had turned into furious kissing their last year living together. This was probably just another of his attempts at knocking her off her high horse, to get under skin and make her upset. Obviously the killing himself part wasn't fake, but he had likely been desperate during his last moments. He probably thought he was going to die, and what could the almighty, man's man, Romeo of all Romeo's, Derek Venturi do but make sure he got in one last moment with a girl. Even if it was the girl he had been fighting with for years, who he had held a certain degree of hate for.

And if it hadn't been that way, then it was just one of those pitiful moments where someone gets too emotional and says things they don't mean. Yes, that's a perfectly _rational_ explanation for Derek's _irrational_ words to her when they were caught up in that room and he thought he was going to die. He needed someone to take care of Marti because of his mistakes, so he picked the girl who was closest to her, still alive anyway. And thinking he'd never see her again, he'd said things he hadn't meant the way they came out. Perhaps he did love her, but maybe he meant it as a sister. Well, that contradicted the kissing didn't it? Casey was thoroughly confused and decided to blame it on the fact that he had been half dead from blood loss and completely emotional with the fear that he was going to die.

Of course, she had assumed that finding a reason for Derek's behavior would make her feel better, but it didn't. Because in the end, even if his feelings were explained away, hers certainly were not. It had been easier to pretend she felt nothing when he was being a jerk to her. Back then, she could yell out her frustration and confusion at him for being dumb and doing stupid things. But now, she couldn't blame him for saying something in a dire moment; he had just been caught up. Sadly, she was left with the full extent of her own feelings and as much as she wished she could pretend they weren't there, she couldn't.

She could see his face in her mind; his handsome features, almost always lit up with a smile, filled with laughter. His grin could make her insides melt with warmth; it was like setting a piece of chocolate on her tongue and letting it dissolve, overwhelming her with its perfection. His eyes sparkled in front of her; hazel with a glint of mischief, always. The light brush of almost unrecognizable freckles that fell over his nose danced in her head. Her watery eyes had taken in everything and now it was all she could see. His broad shoulders, his tall, lithe body, made fit from hockey. His strong, large hands, ten long nimble fingers; eight and two thumbs if she wanted to get technical, which she usually did.

Her legs were aching, but she pretended she couldn't feel it and continued on; always pretending. She felt the rain begin again, it was just her luck that she had to be caught in another downpour. It drizzled down her cheek, causing jabs of cold to hit her all over. Shaking her head, she let out a frustrated grunt and made her legs move faster, quicker, harder. No pain; there was no pain if she pushed it all away. Just run, run, run; away from it all, from him, from the crying, the hurt, the pain. No more; she wouldn't have to face it anymore. She'd just run forever, never look back, just keep going.

Her chest was rising and falling heavily, her heartbeat erratic in its pace. She couldn't hear the loud thumping in her ears that she had been earlier, now it was just one loud rushing noise. She ignored the whistle of the air, the noise of the rain, the sound of cars driving around her. She just kept going; past street signs and houses, across lawns and over fences. She had no destination as long as she could get away from it all; from her own thoughts, her own heart. She needed to scream, to yell, to beat something into a mess of nothing.

Time seemed to fly past her at an unknown pace, she had no idea how long she had run, but somehow she had ended up where all of it started. She collapsed on the front lawn of the MacDonald/Venturi home, feeling the cold rain water soak through her clothes. Her fingers dug into the cold grass, pulling up mud and filling beneath her nails. Breathing heavily, she lifted her freezing face, her teeth chattering as she glared at the house in front of her. The cold drops falling from the sky mixed with the warm ones slipping from her eyes.

Her mouth fell open, letting out a wounded, angry cry as she screamed her heart out at the house in front of her. Running forward, she pushed open the door, left unlocked all this time, her eyes running over the once familial feel to everything. She left the door open as she looked around with an insane need to destroy all of it; to break everything. She let her rage take her over, forgetting to be calm and collected and just letting herself hurt. She threw pictures, toppled lamps, broke furniture. Ravaging the living room, she pushed over the book case, knocked down the end tables, threw ornaments on the floor, crushing them beneath her feet.

Hours later, with the house looking worse than it had after one of Derek's infamous parties, she found herself in a heap in the center of the living room. With the blanket that he had wrapped around them the night he had cuddled against her, she curled into herself, falling into an agonized nightmare, surrounded by the remains of a family home. She forgot the door was open, she never changed her clothes, and she pretended she couldn't feel the ache in her stomach.

Her hands shook with the cold memories of running through the rain, while her body shivered its way through a painful path to warmth. Her legs ached from her long trip over, shaking with exertion and cold. Her chest felt broken in half, still stinging from those fateful four words._ I don't love you._ No, no one does. She was all alone now. No more Derek; no more mom or Lizzie, no more George and Edwin. Not even Marti; she would be with Derek now. And where would Casey be? For now, on the floor of her former living room, but tomorrow she would return to her apartment. Perhaps it was time to leave; time to get out of Toronto and move on to a place that didn't hold so many hurtful reminders. Yes, maybe when she wasn't so cold and empty she would return.

oOo

Derek stared at the spot she had been standing in, his throat constricting as she left. He couldn't bear to look at her after he had lied, he couldn't bear to see the anger in her eyes for him. She wouldn't understand, she couldn't. He was doing this for her; he knew that she couldn't do what he was going to. He had to take Marti and leave town; running from his mother and the law that would likely take his little sister away. Casey was a rule follower, she wouldn't be able to handle breaking an actual law by kidnaping Marti and escaping the country.

And look at what his love had already done to her; she was sitting in a hospital, waiting for him to recover from committing suicide. Was that really the best place to start a relationship from? He had doubts that she even returned his affections anyway, she was likely only giving a dying boy his last wish. Just take it all away, he had asked. Make it stop hurting, he begged. And she had; she had given him that sense of peace when he believed he had finally fucked up for the last time. She deserved better than him; he was a first class screw up while she was a brilliant student and incredible person. He messed things up and she fixed them; was that how they were supposed to be together? She would end up trailing behind him forever, picking up the pieces of his life that he dropped and putting them in the proper order; alphabetized too.

He couldn't let her do that; he couldn't allow her to give up whatever future she had to babysit him. He loved her; he truly did. He had never felt more for a person in his life. Seeing her face could make him grin like no other sight in the world. Her smile made his heart jump and her eyes could actually make him gasp at moments, though he covered it with snarky remarks. She held a beauty all her own, traditionally beautiful but with her own amazing quirks that made her all the more pretty. Though she certainly had the body and looks that would make any guy drool, it was her personality and brains that really caught him. His past had been very obvious in showing that he didn't care what girls interests were or how intelligent they were, but when it came to her that all flew out the window.

Casey could make any guy feel foolish enough to hide away and never show their faces again; she was intelligent in every subject known to man. Ask a question and she'll have an answer, that's just how she is. This trait had caused a great deal of stress for Derek in the beginning because he hated being outdone, but over the years he had come to admire her intelligence, accepting it and knowing that she was all the more incredible because of it. Then there was her rather cunning thought process; when it came to getting him back for whatever he's done, he was surprised to find that she was very talented in that area. She shouldn't be as sneaky or tricky as she is, but she manages to pull it off as easy as an A+ on an English assignment. Combine her beauty, her cunning sneakiness, and her overwhelming intelligence and Derek found the one girl who could match him and even succeed him in many ways.

Sam walked through the door just seconds after Casey had run away, Derek had heard him shouting out to her in confusion. He stared at Derek, thoroughly out of the loop and holding out something for his friend to eat and drink. "What was all that about?" Sam asked, shaking his head with a furrowed brow. "She's been waiting beside you for hours, now you're finally awake and she's running away in tears."

Sighing, Derek shook his head, glowering at the sandwich and Pepsi in front of him. "I managed to make myself into an even bigger ass," he admitted.

"That's pretty hard to do," Sam told him, smiling.

Snorting, Derek unwrapped the plastic wrap from the ham and cheese on white in front of him. Swallowing, he glanced up at Sam for a moment. "When you were with her," he said, quietly, "what was it like?"

Sighing, Sam leaned back in his chair, his eyes raising up to stare at the ceiling. "Well," he said, clearing his throat, "when she wasn't trying to destroy whatever scheme you had going, it was... great." Shaking his head, he smiled. "She was funny and adorable, smart and sweet, fun and loving. She had her moments of being uptight and standing firm on things she didn't really know everything about, as she could be pretty stubborn and controlling with things, but... Most of the time," he said, wistfully, "it was like I stuck in this really blissful dream, where I knew that one day it was all going to come crashing down."

"Why?" Derek wondered, finding the food was tasteless and dry. "Why did it all have to come crashing down?"

"Because it wasn't supposed to be about me and Casey," he told him, sighing rather sadly. "I loved her; I mean, she was my first love in the big scope of things. But she never- I don't think I was ever that for her," he admitted, shaking his head. "I think you were that all along. I mean, it was always about you," he said, sounding a little jealous, and likely hurt. "She always wondered what you were doing, what you were thinking of doing, what you were saying. It was rare when we just had moments between us, because you were always on her mind."

Derek was slightly shocked at this, though he probably shouldn't be since he knew that Casey had always played a huge part in his life in the last few years. She had been right there telling him when he making a mistake or shouting at him that she had told him not to do it. He hadn't realized that their _thing_, whatever it was, had slipped over into her relationship with Sam. Though it did explain why after they broke up, Sam had been quite cold and angry with him for no apparent reason. It wasn't as if Derek had been having an affair or anything with her, he didn't kiss her until their last year living together and Sam had been out of the picture for nearly two years by that time.

"I think she always kind of held back when she was with me," Sam admitted, a small smile covered his face, though it was obvious he was using it to cover up how he really hurt. "It was like part of her knew that she wasn't really supposed to be with me, but she _needed_ to. If you can't have the guy you want, go for the next best thing, right? His best friend," he said with a pitying snort.

Derek shook his head, trying to tell him it wasn't the case. "I don't think-"

"No," Sam said, cutting him off, shaking his head. "You're lucky, Derek. You've always been pretty lucky in life; popularity, a great family, mad skills at hockey." Swallowing, he shrugged his shoulders. "But Casey," he said, an obvious tinge of sadness at just saying her name, "she is like nothing else you will ever experience. All those girls you made out with, all those dates you went on, they're going to seem like some surreal thing you did when you were a little kid. But when you're with her, you are going to be blown away by how... utterly perfect she is." Clenching his jaw, he turned and stared at Derek. "And you know, I think you're the only guy I can ever really see her being happy with. I mean, it hurts to know that she's moved on and she loves you. But of everybody in the world, I think I'm happy it's you."

Shaking his head, Derek sighed. "She doesn't-"

"Yeah, she does," Sam interrupted, nodding vigorously. "I bet she left here because you did something stupid like tell her you don't love her," he assessed, hitting it right on. "You have your reasons and I really don't want to hear them, because honestly they're all just excuses." Lifting his chin, he stared at him seriously. "Do you love her?"

Swallowing, Derek nodded. "More than I ever thought a person could," he admitted, feeling his throat constrict and his eyes burn.

"Then do yourself a favor," Sam said, standing up from his chair and looking down at his best friend. "Don't ever let her go, Derek. Stop lying to her, to yourself, to everyone." Clenching his jaw, he nodded. "If you let yourself be with her, I know it'll be greater than anything you've ever experienced. It won't be like how it was with me, it'll be better simply because she loves you back," he admitted, his voice choking up. "You'd be a fool to let her leave."

Before Derek could say anything else, Sam had muttered something about needing sleep and Derek getting some more rest, leaving shortly after. Left alone to his thoughts in a poorly lit hospital room, Derek sunk into his small white bed, sighing with frustration as he stared hopelessly at the white roof. His best friend made a lot of good points, but Derek couldn't shake the feeling that he would just be an annoying interruption in Casey's life.

His main concern was Marti and making sure she was taken care of; anything outside of that didn't matter. He couldn't dwell on the fact that he was lying in a hospital bed alone, missing the warmth of Casey's body pressed up against his. He couldn't contemplate what his life would be like if he had simply let her take care of him, making it all feel better for however long whatever force of life would grant him his peace. He couldn't let himself live in the dream of having her, loving her. He knew that it would all crash and burn on him, hell it already had, much like it had for Sam. The only difference was that his best friend had the chance to experience loving her fully, being with her as a couple, on the whole. But he would never get his chance at that, he couldn't risk what it entailed.

It wasn't about him anymore, it wasn't about how much he hurt or how much he wanted to just hole himself up with her and never let her go. It was about Marti and making sure she never grew up like he did; with his mother breathing down his neck, telling him he was useless and not good enough. Marti deserved a life filled with love and understanding, of fun and excitement, adventures and family. He could give that to her; he would give that to her. No matter what it took; even if it meant giving up the love of his life.

oOo

Derek was released two days later and surprised to find that Marti was still staying with Emily. Sam picked him up from the hospital; he had been visiting him often, but they never spoke of what they had before. He dropped him off in front of Emily's house and then told him he'd be by later, he had to get back to campus, he had a class in an hour. Derek nodded, thanking him for the ride and made his way across the lawn to the front door of the Davids house. Unconsciously, he touched the sleeves of his shirt, covering the bandages over his scarred arms. He couldn't help but feel utterly ashamed and hoped that she wouldn't ask anything that would involve him spilling the details of his screw up.

He knocked a few times, waiting uncomfortably with his hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his feet. The door finally opened, revealing a sighing Emily. She smiled at him, with a mixture of pity and happiness and he feared she might hug him. Thankfully, any awkwardness was cut when Marti came barreling out after her, throwing herself at Derek's legs and hugging him tightly. "Smerek!" she exclaimed, excitedly.

"Smarti," he greeted, picking her up in his arms and holding her close to his chest. He hugged her as tight as he could without crushing her, having to close his eyes when he felt the familiar prick of tears. "Have you been good for Emily and Casey?" he wondered.

Smiling, Marti nodded enthusiastically. "Emily made me grill cheese and soup and pizza, and salad, and spaghetti, and toast, and eggs, and-"

"Did she?" he asked, cutting her off from listing every single item of food she had consumed while staying with the girl in front of him.

"Yeah," Marti told him, grinning happily. "Casey didn't make me anything though," she told him, looking rather sad. "She didn't come back," she told him morosely.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Clearing her throat, Emily stepped forward, nodding. "Yeah, actually I thought she was going to be with you when you came back. I know she was at the house," she said, thumbing over at the place next door, "the night that you... recovered. But she left early in the morning and I haven't heard from her since."

Derek felt slightly alarmed as Casey didn't take well to certain things, especially anything that had to do with emotion. His eyes darted over to the house for a moment before he finally decided to walk over. "Thanks for everything," he said to Emily, before backing up and making his way over to the tall home next door. He found the front door unlocked and assumed it was because either because Casey was there or she knew he didn't have his keys; she was a smart thinker that way.

He had been completely thrown off to walk in on what he had; the living room was a complete disaster. There was glass and many broken items strewn all over. The couch had been pushed over, the book case was in shambles, numerous pictures had been broken. And lying in the center of the room was a simple blanket, bunched up and looking as if it had been a warm embrace at one time. Swallowing, his eyes darted around, becoming worried about the state she might be in. He began calling name, shouting for her and searching every room in the house while carrying Marti in his arms. Her small voice joined his, calling out for the girl that had previously been doing her best to care for the both of them.

Finally, after finding the house empty, they gave up on looking for her. He wasn't happy about her missing though and decided that he needed to know how she was. So he walked downstairs and climbed in his car, buckling Marti up safely, and headed out toward her apartment. Marti kept up a constant conversation about every little thing she did with Emily, from the moment she woke up to the time she went to bed. Sighing, Derek only half listened as he was rather preoccupied with what Casey might do when she was distraught.

"Smerek," Marti called, innocently.

"Yeah," he asked, stopping at a red light and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"Is Casey going to come with us?" she wondered.

"Come with us where?" he queried, his brow furrowing.

"Wherever we go now," she said, shrugging. "Daddy and Ed are in heaven, so where are we going?"

Swallowing, Derek looked back at her. "Where would you like to go, Smarti?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

Frowning, she stared out the window. "I want to go wherever Casey wants to go," she told him.

His eyes widened, rather surprised at her answer. "What do you mean?" he questioned.

Sighing, Marti turned to him, looking sad. "I don't want her to leave us like everybody else."

He knew that she didn't mean it the way it sounded; she had no idea that she was implying she thought Casey was going to die. He understood what she meant though, she was scared that Casey was going to disappear from their lives and sadly, he was knew that she was rather right. Except, in one way, he was taking her away from Casey, so Casey wasn't leaving them like Marti feared. He had no doubt that if she could, Casey would stay with them forever, making sure Marti was raised properly, which he had wanted her to at one time. He had lived on the hope that she would be right there to talk him through raising a six year old, but now he knew that it wasn't the reality of things.

"Derek?" she asked, shocking him when she used his real name, rather than the nickname they were both fond of.

"Yes?" he asked, driving across the street as the light changed green.

"You're going to be my daddy now, right?" she asked, curiously.

"I'm- I'll always be your brother, Marti," Derek told her. "But I am going to be raising you in place of dad," he tried to explain. "Because he can't be here, I'll be the one to do all the things he did."

Marti nodded, though she still looked a little confused. "And Casey?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "She'll be like a mommy right?"

Derek swallowed, glancing at her through the mirror with wide eyes. "Marti, what do you think Casey and I are to each other exactly?" he wondered, his brow cocking.

"You guys love each other," she told him, nodding. "Like daddy and Nora do."

Sighing, Derek frowned not sure what to say back.

"Derek," she said, leaning forward slightly. "If you're going to be like daddy, then I want Casey to by like a mommy. She's the only one who can make my jelly sam'idges the way I like them," she told him, sounding conspiratorial.

He couldn't help but chuckle slightly, shaking his head.

"Do you think she'll want to?" Marti wondered. "I'll be good for her! I won't make potions with her make up and I won't use her brush to sing anymore. I'll put away all my toys and I'll even eat my veg-a-ta-bulls," she told him, nodding enthusiastically. "Please Derek," she asked, hopefully. "I don't want Casey to leave too," she told him, her voice becoming choked and her eyes filling with tears.

oTBCo

**A/N**_ I'm so unbelievably sorry that I left this all. Please accept my most sincere apologies. I just got really busy with other things, but I'll try my best to keep up with updating this properly. I'm glad you're all still reading and reviewing and I'm really sorry I made you all wait so long. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading, please review._


	12. o12o

**_For Marti_**

o12o

Sadness had given way to anger which slowly turned into acceptance, though she wasn't able to face what her life was now. She woke up early the morning after finding herself on the floor of her former house and decided then that she wouldn't be returning. Dragging herself upstairs, she forced herself to enter Lizzie's bedroom, inhaling sharply as she did. Inside she was met with the remaining articles that signified her sister's existance. A soccer ball lay abandoned on the floor, near the laundry basket holding her dirt covered jersey, clearly stating, "MacDonald," on the back. Pictures sat on her night stand, one of them taken a year before, Casey lifted it from its place, sitting down on the bed and crying on the glass covering her and her baby sister.

It had been taken shortly after Lizzie won her championship game the year before, scoring the winning goal. Casey was hugging Lizzie against her side, grinning like the excited, proud sister she was. Lizzie was staring up at her, that innocent and happy smile on her face; feeling good about making her sister proud of her. It was as if her younger sibling sometimes worried about where she fit in, seeing as Casey was the brain, did that make her the athlete? Casey never really saw it that way, she just assumed they were Casey and Lizzie; strong, independent, loving sisters. There was a smudge of dirt on Lizzie's cheek and Casey laughed sadly as her thumb reached out to wipe it away, over the glass as if it were really her. Hugging the frame, she decided to take it with her, to have that small reminder of her and her incredible little sister. She picked up her soccer ball and kept it beneath her arm, just one more thing to keep her memory alive.

She looked around the room, tears falling from her eyes and her mouth quivering. It was all so Lizzie; with various ribbons of her winnings, trophies or medals in some places, and pictures of all the family set around on desks, shelves, and dresser tops. The paint in the room wasn't anything flashy, but it wasn't dull either. The bed was neatly made, out of habit she supposed. There was frame by the bed holding Lizzie and Edwin, hugging as they grinned at the camera; they were always close, it only seemed right that they were together now too.

Lopsided, a picture hung on the wall above Lizzie's picture of her and her soccer team, showing her and Marti sitting at the table downstairs. Marti had taken it upon herself to paint Lizzie's face while they were creating a 'masterpiece' together; to give to Derek, likely. While Lizzie had been a little peeved at first, she started laughing after she returned the action by painting a long red stripe over Marti's forehead. The picture had been taken after all was done, showing a couple of girls covered in a wide array of colours, grinning happily. Lizzie had her arm around Marti's shoulder, while the little girl was waving her paint covered hands at the camera excitedly.

On her desk, beside her computer, there was one a picture of Derek holding Lizzie over his shoulder while he kicked the soccer ball toward the goal. Casey remembered the day well, Lizzie had laughed, calling him a cheater. She was about to score the winning goal in their one-on-one, first to ten wins soccer game, but Derek had picked her up and tossed her on his back while he scored a goal for himself. Casey wouldn't call them close, neither would Derek really, but they had their moments where they really seemed like brother and sister.

Sitting on her shelf, beside the ornament of a rabbit that their grandmother had given her a few Easter's back, was a frame of Lizzie and George. It was the Father-Daughter dance at her school and he had gladly agreed to go with her, they were both dressed in nice clothing, dancing around the floor, looking a little foolish but having a blast all the same. Lizzie's hair was thrown up in a French braid with ribbons woven through it, while George had his tie undone and thrown over his shoulder. Had Casey not known her real father, she would've assumed George was Lizzie's dad all along.

Hanging on the wall, just beneath a sign that said, "Soccer Is Not For The Faint of Heart," was a beautiful picture of Lizzie and Nora, curled up on the couch together. They were wearing baggy shirts and their hair wasn't brushed, but they were smiling happily, holding a bowl of popcorn between them. Lizzie was leaning up against her mother, while Nora's arm hung over her daughter's shoulder and down her side. It had been taken just a couple years earlier, while they lived in the Venturi household but the guys had gone out for the weekend, camping, letting the women have a few days to be lazy and just have fun.

Finally, she couldn't take standing in the room any longer and forced herself out. Crossing the hall, she made her way upstairs, looking over Edwin's room and finding that it was messy, per usual. Her eyes landed on the spot where she had found Derek but she forced her face away. Walking through his room, she laughed lightly at the posters of half naked women adorning his wall, reminding her sorely of his brother, and the tall poster of Babe Raider hanging beside his window. His computer desk was littered with games, but it was the actual screen that caught her attention. A screen saver ran across, showing random pictures of her and the family like a flash player, she couldn't help but laugh at the one where Derek had Edwin in a headlock, while he grinned and gave the thumbs up sign as if all was good.

He had always held a deep respect for his brother, which would only be proven more by the fact that most of the pictures were of the two of them, ranging from when he was younger up until shortly before the accident. He usually had a screensaver involving women in bikini's and Casey had to wonder why it had suddenly changed to show his family instead, but there were no answers for her as she couldn't question him.

Moving the mouse caused the screen saver to disappear, showing the Babe Raider background with the words, "Come and get me!" written as if coming out of her mouth. There was a shortcut to his favorite game and a few folders holding school projects waiting to be finished, reminding her that he would never get to them. She wondered if his teachers knew of what happened and decided it was probably up to her to get everything cleared up. Derek would be in the hospital for awhile and nothing had been decided on, like the funeral or whether or not they should sell the house. Sighing, she shook her head, knowing she had a lot to do.

Finding Edwin's saved pictures, she opened the folder marked 'Family,' and looked through the photos until she found one of just her and him. They were sitting in the backyard for a BBQ, she had her arm wrapped around his shoulder and he was rolling his eyes, but grinning all the same. There was chips and hamburgers spread over their plates and half of Marti could be seen, dressed in a princess dress and waving her wand at her food. Derek was in the background with Sam, tossing him a football while Nora called them over to eat, her arm caught in mid wave. She couldn't help but smile at how her and Edwin looked though, that half smirk on his face and the young innocence in his expression. He had been an incredible little brother, but she had never told him so.

She printed off a few more from his collection, one of the whole family, two of he and Lizzie, and a couple of George and Nora acting lovey dovey. When she found a whole other folder named Derek and Casey, she was rather surprised. Opening it though, she found a whole bunch of pictures of them, some ranging from yelling at each other to even hugging during a holiday. There was even one when they had been dancing at a Christmas party that her mother had held at the house. She found a movie clip that he must've taken from the video camera they owned. Clicking on it, she let out a chuckle as she watched.

_"Ed turn off the camera," Derek told him, shaking his head. He was leaning up against a wall, looking his usual 'too cool' self. "The Director shouldn't have to deal with such impossible staff," he told him, smirking. "I may have to fire you."_

_"That's fine, you don't pay me well anyway," Edwin replied, chuckling._

_"He doesn't pay you at all," Lizzie piped in, rolling her eyes._

_"She has a point," Edwin told him, nodding, making the camera move with him._

_"No, she doesn't," Derek said, shaking his head. "Liz, stop giving my camera man reason to believe he's underappreciated."_

_"He is," came her faint reply, no longer in the vicinity to be caught on tape._

_Sighing, Derek glanced back at the camera, sipping a beverage from a red cup. "Where's Casey?" he asked, looking around._

_"I don't know," Edwin responded, shrugging his shoulder, jarring the camera. "Last I saw, she was talking to that Jeff guy, over by the refreshment table."_

_"Jeff," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What kind of name is Jeff?" he wondered, frowning._

_"A pretty common one," Ed told him._

_"Exactly," Derek said, nodding. "Common. You know, he's not even funny," he told him, shaking his head. "He tried making a joke and it was the lamest thing I've ever heard. Not even Casey laughed! It was kind of funny to watch him wait for her to get it."_

_"Casey has a different sense of humor though," Edwin reminded. "Remember when she used to laugh at things that weren't funny? Like when Sam told that joke about cheese, and she laughed for like five minutes."_

_Chuckling, Derek nodded. "Yeah," he said, smiling as he looked off in thought. Lifting his drink, he knocked back some of it. "Sam's not here, is he?" he asked, looking around. "Of course he's not, if he were, he'd be with Casey, and then she wouldn't be around Jeff," he said, glowering._

_"Hey there's Jeff right there," Edwin said, swinging the camera to the right to show a handsome boy wearing a green sweater and waving at them briefly. Moving the camera back to Derek, it caught his brother waving stiffly and partly glaring at the boy across from him. "He's Casey-less, maybe that means she's alone."_

_"Are you implying I want to be alone with Casey?" he asked, looking sharply at his little brother._

_"No," he quickly said, sighing. "You've just been talking about her a lot lately."_

_"No I haven't," he replied, his eyes thinning. "I just haven't seen her much since we moved out. I was simply wondering what she was doing," he told him with a shrug._

_"This is the sixth time you've asked me where she is and you've only been here two hours," Edwin dead-panned._

_Glaring at him, Derek lifted his cup to cover he camera. "Go play with Lizzie, Ed."_

The screen went blank for a moment and Casey almost closed it before it showed a fuzzy, dark image. Muffled voices could be heard that vaguely sounded like Lizzie and Edwin. Finally it cleared to show the porch light in the backyard and part of the door.

_"They'll kill us if they see us out here," Lizzie's voice could be heard, before the camera turned to her. It was rather dark, so it was kind of hard to make her out, but she seemed to be shrouded in bushes. "Why are we even taping this?" she asked, cocking her brow._

_"Derek keeps telling me he doesn't like her," Edwin replied, shrugging. "I'll finally have proof."_

_"They're standing on the porch together," she told him, frowning. "How is that proof that they like each other?"_

_"How often do you see Derek and Casey near each other and not fighting?" Ed asked, pointedly._

_Sighing, Lizzie nodded. "Okay, so there has only been a handful of times. But-" Her eyes drifted off before her mouth dropped open._

_"What?" Edwin asked, confused._

_"Look," she said, lifting her hand and pointing at the porch._

_The camera turned, showing Derek smile genuinely as he walked over to stand in front of Casey. "Dance?" he asked, though his voice was so quiet it could hardly be heard._

_Shrugging, Casey nodded, wrapping her hands around his neck. In the background, a very light song could be heard playing. The window was open by the back porch, making it more easy for her and Derek to hear rather than Lizzie and Edwin. Casey's head moved to lean against Derek's shoulder while his hands wrapped low around her waist. They swayed gently, neither speaking, with their eyes half closed._

_A perfect moment was caught on tape and Edwin gave out a quiet whooping noise before his hand darted out, asking Lizzie for a low five. _

_Chuckling, she slapped his hand and shook her head. "Why don't they just admit it?" she wondered._

_"What? That they like each other?" Edwin asked, snorting. "I'll bet you anything Derek doesn't think Casey really likes him, and she'll probably assume he's just adding her to the list of girls he's been with."_

_"He has a list?" Lizzie asked in a shocked whisper._

_"Not that I know of, I was just using it as a- Whatever. All I'm saying is Casey won't trust him and Derek probably doesn't think he's good enough."_

_"He's the most arrogant guy I know and you think he doesn't think he's good enough?" she asked, disbelief obvious in her voice._

_"He acts arrogant, and sometimes he is, but there are times when it's obvious he's really just... self conscious."_

_"Whatever you say," Lizzie replied, rolling her eyes. "I think it's pretty obvious, Derek has to know that she likes him back. Even mom and George know," she told him, staring at him with a quirked brow. "If they know, then it has to be obvious."_

_Just then the door opened, revealing Jeff from earlier, holding two cups in his hands. Derek broke apart from her, running a hand through his hair and turning his face away. Casey glanced at Derek before smiling at Jeff, mumbling a thank you to him for the beverage. He asked if she wanted to go back in and after sparing another look at Derek, she left. Sighing, Derek shook his head, leaning against the banister of the porch, letting out a pitying chuckle._

_"Poor guy," Lizzie commented._

_"At least he got to dance with her," Edwin said, shrugging._

_"Yeah, but he really likes her," she replied, sighing. "I don't know why they don't just tell each other. If I liked someone, I would tell them."_

_"You would?" Edwin asked, sounding interested. "So, you don't like anyone then?" he wondered, sounding slightly upset. "Because if you did, you would've told me- them, I mean."_

_"Well-- I-- See--" she stuttered, sighing with defeat. "Do you like someone?" she asked, looking back at him._

_Clearing his throat, Edwin mumbled something._

_"What?" she asked, her brow furrowing._

_"Y-Yeah, I like someone," he told her, his voice pinched. "I just- I don't know how to tell her."_

_"Be straight forward," Lizzie told him, nodding. "It's better than beating around the bush."_

_"You think?" he asked._

_"Definitely."_

_"Okay,"_

_"Okay."_

_There was a brief pause where Lizzie glanced at the camera and then back to Derek, who stood glumly on the porch._

_"Lizzie?" Edwin asked, sounding nervous._

_"Yeah?"_

_"I- Uh- I-" he stuttered._

_"I know," she told him, smiling briefly. "Me too."_

_Sighing, Edwin came into view, smiling. "Good."_

The screen went black then, leaving Casey in tears, both sad and happy. She had always seen the connection between her sister and Edwin Venturi, but she had no idea that they had admitted it to each other. It rather upset her that the two kids could muster the courage while she couldn't manage being near Derek any longer. It broke her heart to consider seeing him again; his smile, which had been in low demand to begin with, haunted her. Part of her was glad to see Lizzie and Edwin had made progress in whatever relationship they had, but another was upset that she had to witness moments between her and Derek. She hated that they were there, she hated herself for being curious, and she hated that part of her was still happy when she saw him.

Pulling herself from the desk, she took the printed pictures and walked downstairs to stand in front of her mother and George's bedroom. Turning the handle slowly, she breathed in deeply before walking inside. The bed was messy, blankets and pillows tossed all over. The alarm clock lay tipped on its side, while a lamp was still on beside it. The long dresser against the wall adjacent to her, held a number of pictures sitting upright and knocked over on it. Some of her mother's makeup lay open or upside down on the dresser top. Her jewelry box was open, one of necklaces hanging out of it. Some of the drawers of the dresser were sitting open, or had articles of clothing jutting out the top of them. One of her mom's shoes was laying on the floor, on top of one of George's work shirts.

The closet door was open, hangers sitting sideways, bogged down by suits and heavy sweaters. Nora's shoes were laid out across the bottom, some in pairs, some missing their double, likely because Marti enjoyed wearing them around the house. There were a few boxes of things on the shelf above, even a few wrapped Christmas presents laying in wait for the holiday. Casey felt a sob exit her throat, knowing that the homey feeling the room possessed would soon become stale. Everything would be packed away, the familiar feeling of her mom and George would be erased soon. Somebody else would occupy the room and they would never treat it like George or Nora did, because they were not them. It scared her to think so, but she knew it would happen.

Walking to the closet, she reached out, her hands running over the mixed fabrics of their clothes. Finally, she pulled out one of George's favorite ties, her mind whirled back to why it was important to her, making her laugh and cry simultaneously.

_"I don't see why **I** have to wear a tie in the first place," Casey muttered, frustrated as she tried for umpteenth time to tie it in the mirror._

_A chuckle could be heard in the background before George appeared beside her. "First of all, that is an awful tie," he told her, shaking his head._

_"It's salmon," she replied, rolling her eyes. "A shade of pink," she clarified._

_"Yes, and it's awful," George told her. "Here, I have one you can use that would look much better for what you're doing tonight." He waved his hand for her to follow him and with a sigh she did._

_They walked downstairs, through the living room, and then down to the basement. George rifled through his cloest before pulling out a blue and black striped tie. "Not only does this bring out your very beautiful eyes," he told her, wrapping the article around her neck. "But it's the restaurant's colours too," he said, smiling._

_His hands moved quickly, tying it the proper way. "My mother bought this for me when I was about your age. She was the one who taught me how to tie it too. There's a trick that I'll show you when you get back from your first day at work," he promised, winking. "And we'll go tie shopping this weekend, where we will avoid all salmon," he said, chuckling. Nodding, he turned her to the mirror. "There."_

_Smiling, Casey nodded, reaching up to touch the tie around her. "Thanks," she said, appreciatively._

_"Any time," he told her, kissing her temple. "Have a good day at work, Casey."_

_"I will, dad," she said, not even realizing she had slipped until she saw the shocked expression on his face. "Oh," she said, her mouth falling open. "I mean--"_

_"It's okay," George told her, patting her shoulder. "It'll just be between you and me," he assured._

_Nodding, Casey turned to hug him warmly. "Thanks George, I'll see you later at dinner," she told him, pulling away and walking to the door._

Wrapping the tie around her neck, Casey lifted her forearm, brushing it over her teary face. "Over and under... over on top... behind and up... through and down," she mumbled, sniffling. Walking to the dresser, she sat down on the chair and smiled sadly at the perfect tie hanging down from her neck.

Casey's damp eyes ran over the mess of makeup and jewelry on her mother's dresser top. She remembered when she was younger she used to try and dress up in all of her mom's necklaces and put her earrings on. Then she'd cover her face in makeup, looking completely foolish but feeling like a queen. Nora would often laugh at her, asking if she'd like to wear a dress to go with her beautiful makeup and _debonair_ appearance. Which would turn into a mother daughter moment, both of them wearing her glittering necklaces and pretty dresses while simply hanging around the house for the day.

As her hand passed over the jewelry case, she noticed the glint of the light hitting a ring and pulled it out. Turning it over, she read the inscription that she had always loved. It was a ring passed down from her grandmother to her mother, which Nora had kept hold of for many years, but only wore on special occasions. She remembered when she had run across it a few years prior, sitting in the same place, looking through her mother's things as Nora dried her hair before work.

_"It was your Grandma Elise's," Nora said, smiling as she ran the towel over her dark, damp hair. "You Grandpa Joseph gave it to her on their ten year anniversary." Smiling, she chuckled lightly. "My mom shouted at him that he had spent their life savings on a silly piece of jewelry, but he was adamant that she take it."_

_Smiling, Casey rolled it around in her hand, spotting the inscription._

_"Eternity, my love," Nora told her, knowing what she was looking at. "After nearly six months of dating, my dad told her that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life." Laughing, Nora shrugged. "Of course, my mother retorted that he would only think that for so long. And one day her features would wane and he'd be off to the next trollop as quick as she could say goodbye." Smiling, Nora made her way over, picking up the ring. "My dad didn't think so though, he told her, 'Elise, I will think you are beautiful forever.'"_

_"What did grandma say?" Casey asked, staring up at her mom._

_"She said, 'Joseph MacDonald, you liar. Don't you tell a girl a thing like that, she might as well fall in love with you, right now and here,'" Nora said with a laugh. "And dad replied, "Eternity, my love. That's how long I will believe you beautiful. So fall in love with me now, we have a long road ahead of us.' And mom gave in, just like that. They married six months later and my dad said until his dying day that he had never seen a woman as beautiful as my mom." Sighing, she smiled down at the ring wistfully._

_Casey grinned, "That's beautiful."_

_"Mm," Nora agreed, handing the ring back down to her. "One day it will be yours and you can tell the story to your children." Returning to her bed, she continued ringing her hair of water with the towel._

_Casey stared down at the ring, slipping it onto her finger briefly and grinning down at its beautiful diamond. Pulling it off, she sighed at the heartfelt inscription before placing it back in her mother's jewelry box, happy that it would one day be hers._

Holding the ring up, Casey stared at it for a moment, her elbows on the top of the dresser. She glanced at the mirror, noticing that her face was red and splotchy with tears streaming from her eyes. Sniffling, she wiped her face and slipped the ring onto her finger, finding it fit perfectly, better than it had before even. Walking out of the room, she glanced at the time, knowing she shouldn't stay much longer.

Walking into Marti's room, she smiled at the disaster area, laughing lightly. Toys, princess dresses, clothes and random items littered her floor. Her bed was a mess, with the blankets thrown all over. The walls were covered in purple paint and random drawings from when she got bored and her crayons moved from the colouring book to whatever was close to her at the time. Sitting down on the bed, she ran a hand over her face, shaking her head.

It upset her that Marti was still completely alive and she would likely never see her again. Derek would get out of the hospital and one of his first moves would be to get Marti out of the country. It seemed drastic in some contexts, but Derek never did anything small. He didn't believe he could get Marti when her mother was still clearly alive and apparently wanted her. Casey knew first hand that Abby was not the best mother material and while Casey wanted to be there for the little girl, she wasn't going to spend her life running from the law. She believed that the court system might be on their side and she wanted to do it legally. For the time being however, given that she wasn't going anywhere near Derek Venturi, she would just have to accept that she had no say in whatever happens with Marti.

Picking up a crown from the floor, she smiled briefly, remembering when Marti had dubbed her Queen Casey for the day, but only that day, as she was back to being Princess Marti's step sister the very next day. It had been fun while it lasted, consisting of Marti announcing her whenever she entered a different room, though that grated on her nerves pretty quick. Then there were those times that Marti ordered Derek to make Casey something to eat, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. Or when she had told George that he couldn't make Casey do the dishes because she was the Queen that day, and he had actually agreed; even though she had to do the breakfast dishes the very next morning. She had no idea why she was the Queen, but it was a great memory of a day spent solely between her and Marti. The little girl had placed the crown on her head and announced her new standing in the house, and she wasn't allowed to take it off all day.

Gathering her pictures, the soccer ball, and the crown in her arms, she made her way downstairs, placing it all in a bag. After calling a cab, she made her way out of the house, closing the door but not locking it, and gave the address to her apartment to the driver. Her eyes wandered over to Emily's house, hoping Marti was all right with everything that had happened. She arrived home thirty minutes later and after putting her memories away in her room, she pulled out a phonebook, bent on clearing up everything she needed to. Her stomach growled, but she pretended she didn't hear it and continued searching through the yellow pages.

oOo

Two days later she found herself curled up in a ball in her bedroom, her stomach in knots and tears slipping out her eyes. The funeral was set for the day after next, she had someone sending her everything they could on adoption, and the house was going up for sale that weekend. She had gone into Lizzie and Edwin's school, explaining the situation to the principal, trying her best to keep her emotions at bay. Then she stopped in at Marti's elementary school, telling them of what had happened and asking that they bare with them as they figure out what's going to be happening.

All in all, she had a very long couple of days. Her phone seemed to be ringing off the hook but she never answered it; she had an answering machine for a reason. Family and friends would call, leaving their condolences and asking how she was doing. Emily had left a total of thirty five messages, wondering if she was all right and if she was still with Derek at the hospital. Sam had left ten messages, telling her he was worried about her and asking her to call him back when she got them. But nothing from Derek and she knew why; he had given up on whatever it was they had. He didn't love her; she was just there during a hard time.

She couldn't remember the last time she ate, or slept really. She did know that she spent a long time watching infomercials and wondering if any of the things they tried to sell were really good. She knew she had showered recently because her hair was wet, which she could only accost to having been washed. Apparently she had done laundry, as the basket was empty and her drawers were full. She couldn't remember though, and she attributed that to stress, depression, and lack of food. She felt tired, but she wasn't sure if that was from sleep deprivation or malnutrition. Her eyes were heavy though and she could hear a faint pounding somewhere. She thought she heard Derek calling out to her to open the door, but she decided it was her mind playing tricks on her.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she emptied the last of the sleeping pills from the bottle a doctor had prescribed to her when she stopped at a Walk-In clinic. She didn't know when they had been given to her, nor how many she had or when the last time she had any. They didn't appear to be working though, or perhaps they had and she just couldn't remember. In any case, the twenty pills were all gone now. The last four lay in her hands, a cup of water in her other shaking palm. She hoped that while sleeping, she wouldn't feel the ache of her stomach, or the one in her heart. All she wanted was to close her eyes, everything was solved now. She could sleep; no more worries.

oTBCo

**A/N** _Sorry for the late update guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I promise I'll write another soon._ :D


	13. o13o

_**For Marti**_

o13o

Derek was practically running up the stairs to her apartment, he had no idea why he was so worried, but it made his feet move quick. He had seen her car outside, so he knew she was there. Marti was hiked up on one of his sides, wrapped in his arm to keep her stable. They had tried waiting for the elevator, but he found he was too anxious and simply picked her up to walk the three floors. His hand slid across the railing as his feet took the stairs two at a time.

"Why are we running?" Marti asked, staring up at him.

He bit back the retort that she wasn't running at all and glanced at her. "Because I really need to see Casey," he told her, his breathing heavy.

"Are you going to tell her you love her?" she asked, her voice innocent.

"Uh," Derek shook his head at his predicament, closing his mouth.

"Can I tell her?" his sister asked, her eyes wide.

"How about you tell her you love her," he suggested, hopefully.

"Okay," she agreed, happily.

Derek finally reached her floor and half-jogged to her door. He fought the urge to sit down and just breathe for awhile and instead knocked on her door, his feet moving around nervously. Now that he really thought it over, this was the first time he'd seen her since he lied and said he didn't love her. He was half expecting the door to swing open and Casey to slap him painfully across the face before slamming it behind her. When he began banging and shouting for her to open up, it scared him that she didn't do what he thought she would. He knew Casey and he had a pretty good idea of how she would react, but that she wasn't at all, was a very bad sign.

Shaking his head, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Casey's not home?" Marti asked, her lip jutting out as she stared at the door sadly.

Clenching his jaw, Derek placed her on the floor for a moment and moved his hand over the top of the door frame, hoping she had a spare key. _This is Casey, of course she thinks ahead like that_, he thought. When he came up with nothing, he looked around the hallway trying to spot a place she would hide her spare. There was a picture hanging on the wall, lopsided, and he hurried over to it. Turning it over, he sighed with hope, pulling the key taped to the back off of it. Walking back to Casey's door, he slid it in the lock, closing his eyes and praying that it was hers. When it turned, causing the lock to pop undone, he almost yelled with triumph.

"All right Marti," Derek said, nodding at her with a grin. "See, we'll just go in and see Casey, because her door is unlocked."

"But Casey didn't unlock it, you did," Marti said, shaking her head. "She'll be mad at us for going in without her saying we could. I know, 'cause she yelled at me when I used to go in her room."

Chuckling, Derek shook his head and turned back to the door. "She'll forgive us."

Pushing the door, he found another problem; Casey had put the chain lock up. Banging his head against the door, he slapped his hand against the wood and sighed. Nothing was ever easy, was it? Now, he could live up to his reputation of not caring and being lazy, but he just couldn't ignore the feeling in his gut. Derek's instincts were always right, which is why he was so good at hockey. He didn't know what was wrong, or what could be wrong besides the fact that she was moving on from her families death, but he knew he had to check in on her.

"She is going to kill me," he muttered, backing up to stand as far from the door as he could.

"What are you going to do?" Marti asked, staring up at him with a tipped, questioning head.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Stand back from the door, Smarti," he told her, moving his hand to usher her away. Planting his feet on the floor, he turned his shoulder out and closed one eye while grimacing. Inhaling deeply, he ran at the door, smashing his side into it, and hoping the sound he heard was the lock popping out of the wall and not his arm popping out of his shoulder. Upon pushing the door a little, he found he was halfway to getting inside. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to worry about the neighbors calling the cops on him. Rolling his eyes at his predicament, he walked back over to stand where he was, glancing at Marti who was watching with an excited grin.

"Do it again!" she exclaimed, clapping.

Laughing, Derek shook his head and ran again, this time managing to get the door open. Of course, because it swung off the wall and away from him, he landed with a heavy thud on the floor. Groaning, he stared at the floor for a moment before rolling himself over, only to be greeted with Marti jumping onto his chest. He winced, trying his best not to yelp as her knees had collided painfully with his ribs.

"That was great, Smerek!" she told him, nodding. "Can you do it again? I'll lock the door," she said, hopping up and walking over to the door, only to turn back sadly. "I don't think it'll lock again," she told him, sighing.

"Sorry Smarti," he said, rolling his eyes before sitting up. "Maybe another time then. Why don't you go find Casey?" he asked, pulling himself up from the floor. He frowned at the new hole in Casey's wall from where the lock ripped out of and wondered how much he was going to be yelled at. Shrugging, he closed it, locking the deadlock and turned to look around the apartment, finding it looked just the same as it had when he left. Aside from the flashing answering machine that had seventy three unheard messages on it, which rather surprised him. As he walked past the kitchen table, he noticed a piece of paper on it with a list of things she had to do, almost all of them crossed out in red pen.

1. _Go to Edwin and Lizzie's school.  
_2. _Speak to the principal at Marti's school._  
3. _Discuss taking a short stay away from school with the dean at my college._  
4. _Tell Delinda I won't be able to work at the Bridal shop for a little while._  
5. _Call Teddy, mom's lawyer._  
6. _Go to the Walk-In clinic._  
7. _Call Allice Shapiro (455-2374) about adoption._  
8. _Speak to the dean at Derek's college and ask for them to excuse him for the next two weeks, at least.  
_9. _Speak to Derek's coach about his absence from practice.  
_10. _Call Memorial Funeral Home and arrange everything for the family.  
_11_. Speak to Joanna about putting the house up for sale.  
_12._ Talk to Lizzie's soccer coach._  
13. _Go in to see Edwin's new hockey coach  
_14. _Call Marti's ballerina teacher and cancel her lessons for the week._  
15. _Stop in at George's law firm.  
_16. _Talk to mom's partner at her design firm  
_17._ Phone the manager at the restaurant Derek works at and explain why he hasn't been there._  
18. _Eat something._

The only one she hadn't crossed was the last one, which only furthered Derek's worry about her. "Marti," he called, looking up from the table and wondering if she had found Casey. Walking down the hall, he stopped at the bedroom, finding his little sister curled up against Casey's side. She was half hugging her, her arm thrown over Casey's waist and her head up against her ribs. The beautiful girl he had come to see, however, was not moving nor did she appear to notice that Marti was holding her. Casey had always been a light sleeper, so it confused him why she hadn't woken up the moment his little sister hopped on the bed.

Walking around the bed, deciding to wake her, he found a turned over white bottle on the floor. Kneeling down, he picked it up, checking the prescription, assuming it was from her visit to the Walk-In Clinic. He read out the label, his brows slowly lifting.  
"_Rx 2207800  
7.5mg to 15mg taken at bedtime. Water is recommended for ingestion.  
Cassandra MacDonald, apt #307, 402 Greenway Ave. Toronto, Ontario.  
Temazepam, twenty tablets, no refills_."

Checking the date that she had been given them, he found it was late the afternoon before, which caused a sharp clench of fear to run through him as the bottle was completely empty. He found his hands shaking as he looked back at her, but forced himself to stand as close as possible. "Marti, go in the living room, please," he told her, his eyes glued to Casey's face, which remained unmoving.

"No," his little sister said, shaking her head. "I wanna stay with Casey."

Sighing, he swallowed over the lump forming in his throat, "Marti, will you please-"

"No!" she exclaimed, glaring up at him. "I want Casey," she told him, sitting up and beginning to shake her.

Derek felt tears pricking his eyes and his throat close off as he watched his little sister shake Casey to no avail. He wanted to hope that maybe she was just sleeping; that she hadn't overdosed and she was simply heavy into the dream cycle. When he felt tears slip down his cheeks, he shook his head, running his hands through his hair.

"Casey," Marti called, her little hands on Casey's stomach. "Casey, wake up!" she told her, her voice slowly raising. "CA-SEY!" she shouted. "Smerek and I have come to visit!" she shouted, pouting. "Wake up!"

"Marti-" Derek called, his eyes closed.

"Casey!" she called, reaching up and touching her face, moving her chin to shake her awake. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please get up. I'll be really quiet and you can nap later!" she promised.

"Marti-" he tried again, his voice wavering.

"And then we can go wherever you want. Smerek asked where I wanted to go, 'cause I can't be with daddy and Ed, but you can be with us," she told her, nodding. "And we'll go where you want. Smerek said!"

"Marti, will you please-"

"Just get up Casey! Smerek will make you pancakes and then we'll go back home and play princesses," she told her, as if it was Casey's favorite thing to do. Her little hands pulled and tugged at Casey's limbs, at her baggy shirt, trying to wake her up and failing. Finally, she began crying as she turned to Derek. "Why isn't she waking up, Derek?" surprising him once more with his full name. "Is s-she mad at m-me?"

Shaking his head, Derek ran his hands over his face. "No, Marti, she's not mad. Can you please go into the living room for me?"

Sniffling, Marti looked down at Casey one last time before running off into the living room, wiping her eyes and jutting her lip out sadly. She closed the door behind her, which he silently thanked her for. He knew she was upset and she'd likely cry her eyes out in the living room, but he couldn't worry about that right now. He was almost completely sure that either Casey was dead, or she was working on it.

Falling to the floor, Derek buried his face in the mattress by Casey's side, his tears coming full force. His arm slung over her waist, his hand pressing into her far side, as if to pull her closer. Her heavy shirt balled up in his palm, as he sobbed against her. Her arm hung off the bed, lightly grazing his back as it shook, not because she was moving it but simply because it was near him, which only made him cry harder.

"How could you-" Shaking his head, he clenched his jaw. "Why would you-" Letting out a cry, he pressed his face closer to her side. "I need you- I can't-" He let out the breath he had been holding, panting against her as his tears fell.

Lifting his head, he sat up, his face moving across her stomach, laying there for a moment before he recognized something near his eyes. Turning his head, he realized Casey was wearing one of his dad's favorite ties, perfectly tied around her neck. He chuckled lightly, before it turned it to an anguished cry, causing him to bury his head against her stomach again, clutching her large shirt in his hands. Lifting his face, he noticed Lizzie's soccer ball on the pillow near Casey's head and a pile of pictures that looked to be printed off, just below it. On her nightstand was a photo of her and Lizzie after her championship game, making him wonder what the pile of pictures was of.

Reaching out, he rifled through the photos, smiling as Edwin and Casey stared out at him, or the entire family stared from the picture happily. He found a few of him and her, which made him chuckle briefly before his throat closed up. Dropping the pictures, he looked up at her, noticing how emotionless her face was. Casey had always had a very emotive face, whatever she was thinking or feeling was clearly shown in her expressions. But now she lay with absolutely no feeling in her face, not a glimpse of happiness or sadness, no twitch of her lips before she smiles, or lifting of an eyebrow when she wasn't amused.

He reached out to her, his hands shaking as he touched her face. Her hair was damp, but then again as he looked at her arms, they too seemed to be shining slightly. He wondered if she had a shower before she finished off the bottle, or if... If she was sweating, because if she was then she was still... Moving up the side of the bed, he placed his ear against her chest, hearing her heartbeat and almost shouting.

Placing a hand on either side of her face, he shook her head slightly. "Casey, come on you have to wake up," he called to her, his face as close as he could get. "Wake up," he told her, his thumb running over her cheek.

He searched his head wondering how to get her to open her eyes. Sighing, he moved his fingers, pressing her lids up, hoping the light or the pressure would bother her. Instead, her mouth simply twitched, but no other sign could be seen. He tapped her face, not wanting to hit her. Giving up, he slapped her a few times, as lightly as he could. Her head moved to one side and it looked as if her eyes fluttered; she also made a sound that he dubbed a groan of tired annoyance. Looking to the side, he saw a half full glass of water and picked it up; shrugging, he dumped it over her face, causing her mouth to fall and her eyes to shoot open before returning to a half-closed appearance.

"You have to stay the hell up," Derek told her, loud and forceful though he could hear the shaky concern in it. "I don't care how sad you are, you are not leaving me- us," he told her, his arms moving beneath her to pick her up. She didn't seem to be fighting with him, but then she didn't appear to know what was going on either.

"Where's mom?" she asked, staring up at him blearily.

"Casey," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't want to see you, Derek," she said, her hand lifting to push his face away as he struggled to open the door. "Can I see Edwin?" she wondered. "Edwin," she called out, looking around. "Derek, where's Edwin? He promised to help me win level six on Babe Raider today," she told him, vaguely sounding like she was whining.

Derek felt his mouth quiver and his eyes fill with tears as he shook his head. "Edwin's not here, Case," he was able to get out.

"Have you seen Lizzie then?" she hoped, her head lolling against his arm. "Did you know Lizzie and Edwin were together?" she wondered. "Yeah, I saw it on the clip. They're so cute together George," she told him, somehow thinking he was his father. "Edwin's a good guy, he'll treat Lizzie right."

Derek simply nodded his head, pulling on the door and finally getting it open. He wondered what he should do; should he call an ambulance or get her to throw it up? "When did you take those pills?" he asked her, using his arm to lift her head so she was looking at him.

She frowned, sighing. "I took four a little while ago," she informed him. "I can't remember the rest," she said, her eyes suddenly becoming watery. "I can't remember anything," she murmured. Her hand lifted, running over her face. "I did laundry and I think I showered, but I'm not sure. I can't remember the last time I ate, but I don't want to, Derek," she told him, inhaling shakily. "They can't eat, food gives us life, why should I eat?" she muttered, rather incoherently. "I'm so tired," she whispered, her eyes fluttering.

"No, Casey, stay awake," he told her. "Okay, so you've had four pills recently, like how recent?" he asked, staring at her, questioningly.

"There was some banging in the background," she told him, nodding slightly. "And some yelling that sounded like you, but I can't be sure, because I think it was my imagination."

"No, that was me," he replied, walking into the bathroom and placing her on the floor. "We're going to get you to throw it all up, all right?"

Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head, pushing him away. "I don't want to," she said, sighing. "I just want to go to sleep."

"You can't go to sleep, I need you to throw it up, Casey," he said, angrily. "I don't know if you've overdosed, but I think if you throw it up, things might turn out better," he said, nodding. Closing the door, he walked around and picked her up, holding her near the toilet, "Just- Just stick your hand to the back of your throat," he told her, nodding.

"No, Derek," she told him, shaking her head and leaning away from the toilet. "That's gross."

"It'll save your Goddamn life," he shouted, feeling tears burn his eyes again. "Please, will you just do this?" he asked, knowing he was pleading but not caring.

"Why are you even here?" she asked, staring up at him. "You died," she told him, nodding. "You were driving that night. I know, because Derek came here and told me," she said, leaning her head back so that it was pressed against his arm. "Why'd you die, George?" she wondered, sighing sadly. "I liked you. I really liked you. You were like- Like a dad to me," she admitted, quietly. Her hand lifted, wrapping around his forearm to keep her steady. "Except you're not, because if you were, then Derek would be my brother and that would just be- Well... wrong," she said, nodding.

"Wrong?" Derek asked, sitting down on the floor and holding her upright. "Why?" he asked.

"You know, George, your son... He really- He just-" Shaking her head, tears slipped out of her eyes. "He knows how to-"

"How to what?" Derek asked, pulling her hair back, grabbing an elastic from her counter and tying it away. "He knows how to what, Casey?" he wondered, lifting her near the toilet again.

Inhaling shakily, she closed her eyes tightly, letting out a ragged sob. "It doesn't matter anymore," she told him. "It doesn't matter."

"No, tell me Casey, what does Derek know how to do?" Derek asked, staring a her with a dry throat.

"To hurt me," she told him, her back shaking as she cried. "Derek always knows how to hurt me, George."

Derek felt his chest ache as he winced and pulled back from her. The words slicing through him as if she had ripped his heart out; stomping on it just to be sure. "H-He doesn't mean to," he told her, his hands on her waist, keeping her from falling. "He just- He says things without thinking about how you might feel. Usually, it was just to get a rise out of you, but-"

"He doesn't love me you know," Casey cut him off, shaking her head. "I was just like all those other girls... Those stupid, insipid, brainless fools who believed he cared. Do you know what that feels like, George?"

He really wished she'd stop calling him that, but he wasn't about to stop her as she was pouring out her feelings for him, even if she didn't know who she was really talking to. And it hurt; it hurt to know that she believed she was like all those girls before her, when she had always been so much more. While they had all been in good fun, it was her he had wanted for so long. How was _George_ supposed to tell her that though?

"It feels horrible," she continued, nodding. "Because he- He just-"

"He what?" Derek wondered, his voice coming out scratchy and thick.

"He's worth so much more than them," she said, quietly. "I mean, he's smart and he's funny and he's so..."

"Arrogant?" Derek asked, his mouth twitching with a smile.

"Yes," she agreed, chuckling. "But he's also charming," she admitted, her voice wavering. "He can be so wonderful and loving, but then he rears around and turns into the worst jerk possible," she told him, her shoulders quivering. "And the second I think I can actually tell him that I- That I-"

"You what?" he asked, leaning in close to her.

Part of him really felt selfish; he was getting her to admit things to him while she was incoherent and thought he was his dead father. It wasn't right at all and yet he just kept asking her to continue. Some of the things she said hurt, and others felt good. He hated that he was finding out this way and he was almost sure she was going to be beat him over the head when she realized what she had told him. But he couldn't stop himself, he couldn't take back his questions and he likely wouldn't stop asking her to keep going. What if she really did die? Then he'd never know.

Sighing, Casey shook her head, her arms crossing over her chest. "He almost killed himself, you know, George," she told him, nodding. "I don't think he's ever been that raw and real before," she said, quietly. "And it was both beautiful and scary, because he was saying everything he was feeling but at the same time... he was bleeding to death, right there in my arms." She inhaled deeply, her hands clutching at her upper arms. "And he said it... He said those words that I never thought he'd ever say," she whispered, her eyes darting around. "And I said it back, but it was so quiet I don't think he heard."

Derek inhaled sharply, wincing as he fell backward against the wall.

"And then I was standing there beside him when he woke up," she breathed, shaking her head. "They lost him a few times, you know, but it's Derek, so he bounced back," she said, chuckling morosely. "He looked so tired laying in that bed, so broken, and yet it looked like some of him had been put back together. He was so upset and angry those days before he did it, he looked kind of relieved when I found him dying. But in the hospital bed, it was like the real Derek was back and I wasn't seeing the hurt boy he had been. And then he took it all back, right before I was going to admit to feeling the same way," she whispered, biting her lip.

"Casey," he said, her name coming out like a breathy, broken mess.

"But it's for the best," Casey told him, nodding. She looked back at him, her eyes red and teary. "It is, George. Derek and I... we could never work out. I mean, he's so... and I'm so... We'd drive each other nuts," she told him, trying to chuckle but ending up crying. "I think it would be better if I just... If I just go to sleep now," she told him, nodding. "Then I can see mom and Lizzie, I miss them. And Edwin," she added, nodding. "I miss Ed, he's a lot like Derek but not as... Yeah. And I'll see you there too, won't I George?" she asked, staring straight at him.

Derek's tears poured down his face silently as he stared at the teary, hopeful face of Casey; the girl he fell in love with when he shouldn't have, the girl he had lied to, causing her last string to break completely. He wanted to reach out, to caress her cheek and tell that he was Derek and he really did love her. But he knew it would turn out badly, not only would she not believe him since she appeared to be hallucinating or at least very confused. She might freak out though, if she figured out it was him and he wasn't sure he could take her screaming at him or telling him to get lost. It was bad enough hearing that he could hurt her like no other, or that she had accepted they wouldn't be together, deciding they would kill each other anyway. She looked so hurt, more so than he'd seen her in awhile. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was grieving over losing him like she was over her dead family.

"You can't go to sleep," he told her, shaking her head. "You have to just- You have to throw up now, Casey," he said, clearing his throat in hopes of getting the quivering scratch out of his voice.

"I don't want to," she told him, shaking her head, causing tears to slip out. "Derek has Marti and Marti has Derek, I don't have anyone," she whispered, closing her eyes. "No one," she told him, sadly.

Sitting up, Derek shook his head. "That's not true," he told her, his hands wrapping around her forearms. "You have Emily and- And Sam! He'll always be there for you. And- And Marti wants you to go with her and Derek," he told her, sniffling. "They're leaving soon, traveling around wherever, you should come. After the house is sold, you guys will have some money," he assured, nodding. "You can go anywhere," he told her, trying not to sound hopeful.

Shaking her head, Casey looked away. "No. What if they find us later? Then Marti will be taken away and given to Abby, and then Derek will never be allowed to see her and we might even be put in jail for kidnapping," she told him, frowning. "I think Derek should adopt her," she told him, nodding. "He would be a great parent to her, he just needs to prove himself to the judge. I can guarantee we'd have witnesses that would state he'd be a good 'father' to Marti," she assured. "But I can't- I won't go with them."

"You have to at least stay awake," Derek told her, ignoring the fact that Casey was basically saying they would never see each other again. Derek's mind was made up and he couldn't risk his little sister on the hopes that the system would let him have her. "Stay awake for Marti," he asked, nodding.

As if on cue, his little sister banged on the door. "Smer-ek! Is Casey up? I want to see Casey! What are you guys doing? Can I come in?" she asked, barely leaving enough time to breath with each question. "Casey," she called, knocking on the door. "Casey, will you come play with me?" she asked.

Casey's hand reached out, brushing against the door as she quietly cried, sniffling.

"Casey, you aren't going to leave like daddy did, are you?" she wondered. "When Smerek and I go, you're coming, right?"

Shaking her head, Casey looked around as if searching for something. "This isn't fair," she mumbled. "Not fair at all," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Reaching out, Derek took her face. "Don't do that," he said, moving her face to the toilet. "Either you throw up, or I'll make you," he said, sitting up straight and holding her near the toilet.

Whimpering, Casey stared down into the toilet, shaking her head. "Why won't you just let me sleep?" she asked.

"Because I can't lose you," he shouted, his jaw clenching. "Please, Case, just..." Lifting her hand, he held it near her mouth. "You're not the suicidal type, will you please... I don't want to bury five caskets," he said, quietly. "Hate me, yell at me when you're back to your full strength, just don't leave me... Not like this," he asked, his voice breaking down.

"I'm tired though, George. I did what I had to do. I fixed everything; it's all done. There's no more need for me here. I- Everything is arranged," she told him, nodding. "The schools are cleared up and the funeral is set for the day after tomorrow. The house will be sold soon, so Derek and Marti will have money for what they need. I just- I want to be with my family," she cried, her head shaking.

"I'm your family," Derek choked out, his arms slipping around her waist. "Me and Marti, Case, we're your family now."

Casey's body shook against his, her head moving back and forth. "You don't want me," she told him, her head falling back as tears slipped out.

"I don't- I don't want to talk to you about this right now. I don't want to tell you these things just so you can throw it back at me that I did it because you were suicidal," he told her, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "I want you to throw up those stupid pills and have something to eat. Then we'll talk. I promise you, Casey, we'll talk about all of it. But you need to throw them up. Don't make me stick my hand down your throat, because I seriously will," he told her, firmly.

Casey stared down into the toilet, tears falling from her cheeks. "I c-can't," she told him, shaking her head. "Please, I can't," she breathed.

Swearing under his breath, he swallowed. "Don't ever say I didn't do anything for you," he told her. Opening her mouth, he stuck his hand in before she could protest. He pressed it back as far as he could, urged on by her heaving back. He managed to pull it back just as everything flew up her throat. She pitched forward, the contents of her stomach spilling into the toilet. Rubbing her back, he ran his hand over her face, wiping away sweat and stray hair. She didn't have much in her, just water and pills it appeared. He made her throw up until he was sure everything had come out and there was nothing left inside.

A short while later, Derek found himself cradling her in his arms as he leaned against the wall, his eyes staring at the white porcelain seat in front of him. She shivered against him, making his hands move to warm her. Her face was pressed up beneath his chin while she cried quietly to herself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear a voice saying he now knew what it felt like for her when she found him in his brother's room, half dead. Rubbing her back, he sighed at how close it had all come to ending.

He didn't think a hospital was in dire need, she had thrown it all up. Since she had only taken the last four pills just before he got there, he was almost sure that any overdose had been avoided. If she hadn't been having any problems before those four and she didn't appear to be dying, just very tired, then perhaps they had avoided the whole mess. Apparently she'd been taking them at different times when she wanted to sleep too, as the pills in the toilet seemed to be at different digestion points.

Marti had gone back to sitting in the living room, unaware of what the two teenagers in her life had done to themselves. She would never know that her brother tried to kill himself using the glass of a family photo. She would never know that her former step sister had almost overdosed on sleeping pills. Or that her Smerek forced Casey to throw them up by stuffing his hand into her throat. She would never know the shameful secrets of the two teenagers who love her dearly, wanting nothing more than to raise her right while trying to get through life themselves. What a pair they made.

oTBCo

**A/N** _See. That didn't take long did it! lol. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, please leave a review. Thank you all!_


	14. o14o

_**For Marti**_

o14o

When Casey woke up she was in her bed, with everything she had gone to sleep with lying around her. Cradled against her stomach was Marti, however Casey had no recollection of what she was doing there. Slowly, the last few days came back to her, like a full speed train hitting her right between the eyes. A headache formed and her stomach grumbled. She glared down at its traitorous behavior and then turned her attention to the little girl lying against her.

Marti was fast asleep, her dark hair was covering most of her face, occasionally fluttering when she sighed in her dreaming state. Reaching out, Casey gathered the strands of hair and moved them to fan out behind her. Her hand was shaky, but she ignored it as she stroked Marti's sleeping face, feeling a heavy weight of regret burrow down on her. She had almost left her, nearly let her own sorrow take her away from a little girl who had already lost so much. A young girl who needed her, wanted her in her life. How could she do that?

Marti stirred slightly, but continued lightly snoring and curled her little body up more beneath the blanket. Casey realized her other hand was being held my Marti's small one up by her head. She wondered when it was that the young girl came in to keep her company and then her mind drifted off to where Derek might be. She couldn't remember the majority of what they said to each other, her memory was in shambles. She knew he had tried convincing her to throw up, that she had thought he was George for a long time, and that in the end, he forced her to regurgitate the mostly-empty contents of her stomach. She sort of remembered being held in his arms as she cried, but not whether they spoke or when it was that she began to fall asleep again.

She could remember Marti yelling for her though, calling to ask if she was going to leave like George had. She was young, innocent in her need for people who care. And Casey cared; she'd always had a sore spot for the imaginative 'Smarti,' who had more personality than everybody else in the world combined.

Casey had been selfish, she knew that now. She hadn't really been contemplating suicide until the possibility was staring her right in the face. She just wanted to sleep, but then the pills were all gone and she had no understanding of time. Then Derek was there and he was shouting about how she couldn't leave that way and suddenly it was like a choice given to her on a silver platter. A life where she thought she had no one or a death where she could be with all she had lost. And it seemed like the right choice at the time, it seemed like the best idea.

So why had she cried? Why was the thought of leaving Derek and Marti so heart-wrenching? Why did she want, more than anything else, for Derek to turn around and tell her that he loved her and he didn't want her to do it? Was that all it was? Did she just need to know someone loved her, that somebody cared enough not to want her to go too? Or did she really miss her family so much that she was willing to forget about Marti's feelings, Derek's emotions, enough so that she could just fall asleep and stop breathing? She didn't know. All she knew was that she had been close to losing her life, to never seeing Marti or Derek again, and it scared her. Now that she was sober and coherent, the thought of never seeing them again chilled her.

She wrapped her arms around Marti's sleeping form, not to tight but enough to make her feel as if she was really there. Enough to assure her that she was holding Marti close to her heart and not far off in heaven or hell, having a dream. She could hear her breathing, could feel the life of the little girl as she cradled her. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, blinding her. Emotion clogged her throat and she drew in ragged, pained breaths, feeling fear and sorrow grip her like a vice.

"I'm sorry," she murmured against Marti's hair. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, feeling herself shake and quiver.

She held her for a long time, collecting her broken self and simply holding the child who possessed so much life. She was the only one left in their crazed family dynamic that hadn't attempted to leave. She was the one who needed them most and both her and Derek had tried to leave her behind. Here they were, wanting the best for her. But were they really it? Were they capable of being enough for such a fragile being, one that needed constant attention and loving family? Yes. It was a simple answer. One that took a lot of searching to find.

In the beginning, she had thought without a doubt that her and Derek would have to be Marti's family. She had resigned herself to being there, always, to helping Derek through parenthood and being the women who was always there to help Marti through life. But now that she had experienced the thin line between life and death, she realized just how fragile and unclear it really was. Marti was life. She had to be cared for at all lengths. And perhaps Derek and Casey had been broken, had been unsure about whether they were really stable. But now, she knew. She knew that she wasn't going to give Marti up for the chance to see her family. They were gone, but Marti was here. And she needed Casey and Derek. She needed them like a person needs air.

They had made mistakes, they had tried to take their lives, but something clicked in those moments. When faced with the possibility of never breathing again, of never living to see another day, it strikes you blind and you see what you are really and truly saying goodbye to. It seems like that world after you close your eyes is so much better, like a dream of peaceful proportions, but it's not. When you're gone, you are **_gone_**. There is no in between, no coming back and apologizing for stupid things. You say no more goodbyes, you shed no more tears, you hug nobody else, and you never see those faces ever again. You are gone. And Casey wasn't ready to be gone. She had to think about Marti. Marti and Derek.

Derek. There was so much that went along with that one name. A barrage of emotions hit her in that moment. He had cared enough to save her, but caring isn't the same as love. She had run and run and run some more to escape the hurt she felt at realizing she had allowed herself to feel something so deep for him. And she had nearly told him, came so close to admitting it right to his face that she _loved_ him. How could she be so stupid? So dense? What was she thinking? Derek didn't love her; he couldn't possibly. She wasn't his type or the kind of girl that guys like Derek fall for. She was... Casey. Plain, boring, straight laced, always does her homework, Casey. And he was... Derek. Exciting, charming, good looking, suave, cool, funny, never does his homework, runs with the situation, in the moment, unpredictable Derek.

They weren't supposed to work out, they were supposed to fight and bug one another, to one-up each other whenever the situation presented itself. But that wasn't the case. When did that change? When did their fights become charged with the appeal of each other? When did he begin looking handsome in her eyes? When did his smirk become attractive? Or his laugh cause shivers? When had she begun wishing that one of their fights would become a kissing spar? And why had she ignored it for so long?

All that time she spent acting as if she hated him, avoiding the family so she wouldn't have to see him. When all along she really wanted to see him. She had wanted to run into him randomly, so see his smug, handsome face again as he ranted about something she did or didn't do. To see his warm brown eyes sparkle with their usual mischief before his lips met hers in a flurry of angry attraction and heated passion.

But what had she gotten for recognizing those feelings? Pain. She had admitted to herself that love was real, that it lived inside of her, that it was directed at Derek. And she gathered her courage to tell him so, only to have him say he **didn't** love her just seconds before saying she **did** love him. He had hurt her before; had caused more tears than she could count. But this was different; in the past it had been a superficial hurting. It had been about her looks or her actions, about her beliefs on schooling and her rather uppity reaction towards him. But now it was about emotion, about how the heart felt. And to have that thrown in her face was just too much.

What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to face him? He didn't know though, did he? Had she admitted it while she thought he was George? She couldn't remember. It was hazy, confused and muddled when she thought back. It only came to her in pieces, little parts she couldn't put together just yet. But he did know what she had done, he had seen her in her most humiliating state yet. Near death and just wanting to 'sleep'.

So now was the big step, facing what she had done and holding her head high. She extracted herself carefully from around Marti, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead and slipping out of her bedroom. She heard her stomach rumble again and she begged it to quiet down, she didn't need to hear it calling to her anymore. She didn't want to think about food, even if it was sustenance and she no longer wanted death to knock at her door. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she walked down the short hall into the dining room.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Derek, his back to her as he stood at the stove. He was stirring something, she could tell from the way his arm moved and his shoulders flexed. He had broad shoulders from hockey and working out, something she always admired in his body. It was hard not to notice really, especially when she had been held up against that same frame more times than she should really remember. Some weren't always as gentle as others, like when he had been drunk and raving about his self loathing. But others were nice, like when he returned to their former house, wrapping himself around her and apologizing as he held her into the night.

When she realized she was staring, she tore her eyes away. She planned on backing away, hurrying to the bedroom to curl back up with Marti and put off facing her mistakes until she was ready to look him in the eye. But her treacherous stomach turned on her once again, sending out a traitorous growl to alert him to her presence. She looked down, her eyes thinning to glare at her stomach as if somehow she could make it feel bad for doing its duty to alert her of its long-going hunger.

Derek turned around with an unreadable expression on his face, he stared at her a long moment, though she kept her eyes on his shoulders, far away from his eyes and any other parts of his face that might be nice to look at, like his lips. Her arms unconsciously wrapped around her stomach and with it being empty, her waist rather felt smaller. It was disturbing and explained her mental state at the time. She felt smaller, like a little speck of someone she used to be. Empty and remorseful. She felt her feet backing up toward the room. She could go back to Marti. Marti didn't know what she did. Marti wouldn't hate her, wouldn't tell her she had been a horrible, unfeeling person. Marti would just want to play, to hug her, and to tell her stories about princesses and cats. She could deal with that. It was innocent and sweet, not dark and full of death like she always felt now.

Her lower lip trembled but she caught it with her teeth, which did nothing however as her chin began to quiver against her resistance. The apartment was dark, the only real light coming from the kitchen and spilling over the counters to the small dining room table. She was retreating into the shadows of her hall, unconsciously reaching for the safety of her bedroom and Marti's small, sleeping form.

"Sit down," Derek told her, his voice commanding and all the same rather soft.

She glanced up briefly, before she found herself far too close to looking him in the eyes. And her feet listened, though her mind screamed at them to continue going back. Her body was against her though, it didn't listen to her commands but Derek's. She found herself sitting in a chair, her arms still wrapped tightly around her as she stared at the honey coloured top of the table.

He walked in, his feet rather loud in the quiet of the apartment. He placed a bowl in front of her; chicken noodle soup. And to the side of it sat a glass of ice cold milk, tempting and mocking at the same time. He had the same in front of him, which was closer than the chairs usually permitted. He moved to sit beside her though, not suffocatingly so, but enough to tell her that he wasn't going to just let her sit there and ignore him. He also had a very delicious looking sandwich in front of him, which made her stomach shout out to her again. Evil little thing, always going against her to tell others that it was empty.

"I--" He cleared his throat, sounding unsure. "I don't know how long it's been since you've eaten. But I think it's probably best to start with soup," he said, pushing it closer to her.

She stared down at the yellow soup in front of her, inviting and deceiving in its tasty, mouth watering way. Her hand moved against her hip, as if wanting to reach out and fill her spoon with its delicious flavor. She ignored it though, closing it into a tight fist. She would not give in; food means life, and her family couldn't eat. But hadn't she just decided she wanted to live? This was different. How? She didn't know. She was still confused and she had held out from eating for so long. She didn't want to eat now and yet she wanted to so much. Tricky. Such a confusing subject for her. To eat or not to eat, that was the question.

"You're not leaving this table until you've eaten that entire bowl," Derek told her, his voice clear, precise, and a promise.

Okay, so perhaps it wasn't a question. Derek was telling her it was a guarantee. Why was she listening to him? Had she ever really listened to him before? Why was she starting now? What did he know? Why should he be able to tell her that she had to eat? Maybe she didn't want to eat; didn't _need _to eat. _That's completely ridiculous, everybody needs to eat, it's a way of life,_ a voice told her, and it was painfully enough her mother's.

Her eyes filled once more and this time she did nothing to stifle it. She let the tears stream down her face, warm and then cold, refreshing and then damning. They rolled off her chin, splattering on the cold table top beneath her. But she just stared, she didn't close her eyes or make any noise. She stared into the bright yellow of her soup, the soup Derek had made, the soup he wasn't going to let her leave without eating. Because Derek cared. He didn't love her, but he cared. Wasn't that enough? Maybe, maybe not.

And then she saw his hand, wrapping around the handle of her spoon and filling with the yellow soup. He lifted it, letting it hover in front of her mouth. "I'm not going to do the airplane, open up," he said, a small, almost imperceptible laugh in his voice.

She was startled, surprised at the action so much that she turned to look at him. Blue connecting with brown, sadness with resolution, and he stared right back at her. There was so much understanding there, so much behind those eyes that she forced herself to look away. She couldn't see that, didn't want to see that he knew what she was feeling or what she was thinking. She wanted him to leave. To just go away and never come back. And she wanted to crawl back in bed with Marti, to hold her and fall asleep again. But that wasn't going to happen, because there was a spoon in front of her face and Derek was not going to let it drop.

And so she stared at it, the yellow broth in front of her mouth, steaming and juicy. Her tongue longed to be swathed in it and her taste-buds were already swimming in the memory of the flavor. As another tear rolled down her cheek, she closed her eyes and wrapped her mouth around the spoon, letting the broth fill her mouth. It rolled down her throat, leaving a hot trail behind, one that warmed her heart. As it hit her stomach, she could feel her belly heat up at the beginnings of a filling sensation.

He dipped the spoon again silently, but from the corner of her eyes she could see a small smile on his formerly always-smirking face. It was rare now that she saw any of his happy self and she felt a stab of regret for adding to that. She let him feed her, it was rather unusual for her to lean on him for support and yet here she was, letting him spoon-feed her chicken noodle soup. In some weird way, she had a feeling that it was helping him too, to have her rely on him for something.

He reached out with his free arm, wrapping it around half of his sandwich and bringing it up to eat as he continued to dip her spoon and return it to her mouth. He watched her the whole time, his eyes on her throat, as if making sure she was swallowing. He broke the silence, his voice sounding much deeper in the quiet darkness.

"Some people called while you were sleeping," he informed her. Apparently unfazed by her lack of response, he continued feeding and speaking. "The guy from the funeral home said we could come in to pick out the caskets tomorrow. Since the service will be the day after. And the Realtor for dad's house said she's already getting offers. The house is in a really great neighborhood, so families are already asking to see it. She wants to know when we can have it cleared out for selling," he told her, his voice a little shaky, though he was hiding it well.

"Oh, and your aunt called. Vicki's mom. She said she was coming down tomorrow morning. She wants to have breakfast with you but I told her you were laying down. She said she wants to see all of us; something about family unity during crisis. Vicki is coming with her, I think."

Casey remained silent, simply eating the soup when it met her mouth and staring rather dazed at a place on the table. His voice was oddly reassuring, surrounding her with a warmth that relaxed her shoulders. Her arms fell from being wrapped around her, one of her hands resting on his leg. He seemed to jump at the action at first, but he fell back into talking quietly and lifting the spoon to her mouth.

"I don't really want to go, but I bet Marti would love to eat out. If you don't want to, we don't have to. I can call her back and tell her we're busy with... well caskets. And she'll just have to wait to see you until the funeral," he told her, sounding slightly as if he were rambling. "You will have to see her though. Even if you manage to escape her at the service she knows where you live. I guess we should have a small reception at the house afterwards. I was thinking about food earlier and so I called Emily to see if she'd know what to do. She said she and her mom would cook some things and make up some plates, so we're all right for that."

Scratching the back of his head, he made a sighing noise. "Last time I was at the house though, it looked like it badly needed to be cleaned up. So, I'll take care of that tomorrow morning before we go to the funeral home."

She didn't know if he was talking because he was nervous or if he just felt she needed to know these things. He could've just left her at the table with her soup, she eventually would've eaten it... probably. The old Derek would've taken his dinner in the living room, watched a hockey game or something while he left her to figure her own problems out.

But this wasn't the old Derek and he was being oddly caring towards her. He wasn't doing it outright and if she said anything, he'd most likely deny it. But here he was, feeding her soup and telling her who had called and what had happened while she slept off the aftereffects of taking far too many sleeping pills and nearly overdosing. Perhaps that was why she began crying again, a small bit of feeling sorry for putting him through so much while he continued to help her, mixed with wishing he were being cruel so she could stop loving him.

The spoon paused midway to her mouth as he seemed to realize she was crying again, but it resumed its travel to her lips a minute later. Nearly all of the soup was gone, there were only a few more spoonfuls left and then she'd have done what he asked. He stopped speaking for the remainder of the soup and then moved the glass of milk in front of her. She stared at it, noticing just how bright it really was. She missed milk; it felt like it had been ages since she had had a glass of the creamy, white liquid. She must've been taking awhile to consider it because his hand wrapped around it again, lifting it just a small distance from the table before it was stopped.

She hadn't realized her hand had come out until she was staring at it wrapped around his. He let her hand lower the glass to the table. She stared at her their hands hands for a moment before she finally let go of him to wrap her fingers around the glass and lift it to her mouth on her own. She let the cold beverage hover against her lips for a moment before she finally tipped it back and let it slide into her mouth. It coated everything all at once, slipping down her throat and cooling her tongue from the previous heat of the soup. It was unbelievably refreshing, cool and nice as it filled her stomach. She nearly felt a smile brighten her face but immediately squashed all notions of such things.

She placed the now empty glass on the table beside the equally bare soup bowl. Her stomach felt full, but not in an uncomfortable way. And instead of feeling like she had betrayed her family for giving in and allowing herself to eat, she felt an enormous weight lift from her shoulders. She inhaled deeply, letting it out in a long, content sigh. She wasn't empty, at least her stomach wasn't.

Derek nodded at her, before turning to eat his own soup. She sat pondering for a moment, letting her body adjust to the food while she quietly thought about what life was going to be like for her now. It Derek still decided that adoption wasn't the way to go then this was just one of the few days she had left with him and Marti. However, if he decided he would try adoption, then she was still going to be seeing them, which was both satisfying and scary. She still wasn't able to look Derek in the eye, let alone see him constantly when she wanted to visit Marti. She had to get over this, get over him. For Marti's sake.

He seemed to eat his soup in record time, woofing it down before she could contemplate standing. Having eaten, she was no longer tired. Or at least, she didn't feel very tired. It could just be the effects of having not eaten in so long that she felt a boost of energy. He gathered their dishes, bringing them up to the kitchen sink and rinsing them off, but not washing them. He may be nice, but doing dishes was a rare thing for Derek. She found he only did them when he was either forced or in a deep state of thought and needing to do something.

She watched him walk slowly back to the table, where he looked down at her for a minute as she returned her eyes to stare at the table top. He reached down, taking her hand and tugging on her to bring her into the living room. Once again her body went against her, following him in his journey to the couch. He had her sit down beside him, moderately close, and held her hand in the space between them on the cushions.

It was dark and quiet, but she found it rather comforting since she was sitting close to him and feeling a little insecure. She didn't know what to say or how to act. She didn't know what to think really. She had done something big, drastic and irreversible. She would always know what she attempted, he would always know what she had nearly done. She wanted to believe she wasn't _that_ person, but then, she hadn't thought Derek was _that_ person either. Was there even a "that" person? She had undergone serious emotional grief, she had lost her family and then had her heart broken, and all in less than a week. What did that mean? That when things got too tough she would take the easy way out? Was it really that easy? She was still confused and she had so many questions, but no one to answer them.

"Why?" he asked, his voice quiet and shaky.

She didn't reply. Her voice didn't appear to be working that night. But she didn't know what to say anyway. Because she was hurt? Because she missed her mom and sister? Her step dad and step brother? Because he didn't love her? Maybe it was a collection of all of it. Maybe she just had enough. There was no real answer to the question. It wasn't just one thing. There was no simple explanation that would make it easier to understand, to bear the consequences of. She couldn't explain it all away to him so he laughs and says, "Ohhh," in a way as if to say, 'Of course, why didn't I think of that?' That wasn't the way things went. She had tried to kill herself and she had no way to tell him "Why".

"Will you speak, Casey, please?" he asked, sounding almost as if he were pleading. But Derek Venturi never pleads... he's _The Derek Venturi_ after all. "You can't just ignore me and pretend this didn't happen," he told her, his voice annoyed and going on angry. "You tried to... You nearly... I found you..." He broke off every time, each sentence sounding harder and harder for him to say.

It hurt to know that she was causing so much turmoil, and she wanted to apologize. To reach out and hug him, to ask forgiveness for being stupid, or tell him she never meant it. But in those last moments she really had wanted it. She really did want to fall asleep. She could feel it in her, remember at least that much of it. She wanted to go, there were just a few strings holding her back. They were strong strings, ones not ready to let her rest. And one was sitting beside her, begging for answers. But she had none for him, she had too many questions of her own.

His hand gripped hers, tightening almost painfully, as if he thought she were going to run away. His thumb ran patterns over the top of her hand, it almost tickled really. "We're a real couple of winners, huh?" he asked, letting out a self deprecating laugh. "We lose our family, _band_ together, try and push each other away, attempt suicide, and now here we are..." he sighed, sounding defeated and forlorn. "This wasn't how I imagined my first year at college," he told her, quietly. "I thought there'd be more hockey, parties, friends, and..." he trailed off, but she was sure the next words would've been '_girls_'. That which Derek strived to have more of; to have all of. Girls of all kinds, everywhere, everyone, all to himself. Always the ladies man, that was Derek Venturi.

She continued to sit quietly beside him, her mouth tightly shut and her eyes staring off at some far spot of the carpet. What was she supposed to tell him? That it would all get better? She wasn't feeling it, why tell him so? How do attempted-suiciders talk to each other? Was there a program she could get into? Would she have homework?

"You know, Marti hasn't left your side since I put you to bed. She kept asking me to see if you'd come with us this morning," he told her, turning to look at her for a moment. "I guess you've grown on her. She doesn't seem to want to go anywhere without you," he said, sounding rather sad.

Is that why he came over? Because Marti wanted to see her? It hadn't been out of feeling bad for what he said? Or even what he saw when he went back to the house? She felt bad for that now, making such a mess of everything in her fit of rage. There were a lot of things she wished she could take back. Avoiding home, admitting her feelings to herself, loving Derek. But she couldn't change any of that now. She would just sit quietly and pretend everything was quiet and Derek wasn't talking to her, wasn't holding her hand in his warm grasp.

"I-- I don't know what would've happened if you had..." He cleared his throat. "You know I never figured you for a quitter," his voice lacked any malice, but she knew he was trying to goad her into talking. "You're supposed to be the one with the level head, the one that stops me, the bonehead, from doing things like that. But there you were..." He seemed to have lost himself in his thoughts near the end, as if it was no longer about getting her to talk because he had been sidetracked by remembering it all.

"Marti just kept shaking you and asking you to come play but you weren't moving. And I found the bottle, empty, so I thought the worst. I mean she was yelling and really shaking you, but you just... you didn't wake up," he said, his voice breaking. "And it took me forever to get her to leave, she just kept crying and telling me that she wasn't leaving without you. That she wanted you. And she thought you were mad at her, that she had done something wrong..." He swallowed, the noise was loud enough to reach her ears and sounded painful.

"I-- I thought you were dead. It took me awhile to figure out that you weren't and to finally get you to wake up, but you didn't want me. You wanted Nora and Edwin, and you kept asking for them. I didn't know what to tell you, how to explain that they couldn't come back." Shaking his head, he tightened his grip on her hand. "You just kept calling me George," he breathed, sounding as if he might be crying, but she didn't dare turn to him. She just absorbed his words, her breathing quickening and her eyes burning. "And you told me over and over to let you sleep, but I couldn't. I couldn't. Because then you'd... you'd... and you'd be gone. And I couldn't..." He lifted their hands, his head bending forward as he pressed their joined hands and his free hand against his eyes. His tears met her skin, mildly warm and telling of just how much she had really put him through.

He had been acting so strong and stoic. Feeding her soup, telling her who had called and what had happened. He hadn't looked affected, acting as if nothing too big had happened. He made her eat and even managed a half-smile. She hadn't known what to think of that, how to feel about it. But he was breaking down now, he was admitting his fear, his worry over what had happened. And it all sounded so dark, so wrong. Her eyes pulled away from the carpet, focusing in on the back of his neck. His broad shoulders were shaking, but he made no noise, didn't let the sound of his sadness reach her ears. He simply held their hands against his eyes, not letting her go, making her stay nearby. Was he worried she might do it again, or did he just need the support?

She pulled her hand from his gently, feeling a slight hold of resistance before she managed to get it out. She stared at it for a moment, noticing the salty remnants of his tears coating it. And then she rested it on his back, moving it in slow circular motions, calm and reassuring against his back. His shoulders slowly stopped shaking, while his crying was soothed away by the ministration of her hand. She stared at the nape of his neck, at the brush of his brown hair. She wanted to reach out and run her hands through it, to feel the soft strands like when she had kissed him. She could feel the muscles of his back flex beneath her palm, but he stayed hunched over and quiet. Her hand moved up, wrapping around his shoulder and tugging on him to sit up.

He rose slowly, his hands wiping at his eyes quickly before she could see, even though she knew. She wanted to say something, anything that would help him feel better. But she was at a loss for words. How does a person apologize for putting someone through something like that? Had Derek apologized for having her see him bleeding to death in front of her? Yes, but that involved a lot of calling himself stupid and in the end he had lied, telling her he loved her. So was any of that even true? What could she say to him now? What could she do to make it better when she wasn't feeling right about any of it.

She was tired and that emptiness that she had previously thought was hunger was back. She wanted to be loved, to be held and rocked. She wanted to feel again and she didn't know how to do that. She didn't want to cry anymore, she didn't want to mourn or feel like she was coupled with death at every breath. She wanted Derek to make her feel better, but how was he supposed to do that when he felt lousy? And why should he have to?

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounded foreign to her ears, odd in the quiet that had only been taken over by his voice in previous minutes. "At first, I hadn't meant to. I was tired but I couldn't sleep. The pills weren't working though and I lost track of time. I kept taking them and taking them but I was still awake. Always awake," she whispered, her eyes darting around as if searching for something to fill the void.

She wanted her mouth to stop, she wanted her heart to fail her, she wanted to go back to Marti. Marti was safe, she wanted Casey, she wanted to hold her and to hug her, to play with her and keep her happy. She wouldn't look down on her or cry about what she had done, because she would never know. She would look at Casey like she always had and that was reassuring.

"And when I was finally tired, I had taken the whole bottle," she told him, her mouth betraying her, just like the rest of her body. "And then you were there and you were telling me to throw up. I don't... I don't remember much, but I know... I know I wanted to go to sleep," she breathed honestly, swallowing the emotion building in her throat and biting down on her bottom lip for a moment, bracing herself.

"I can't tell you why. I don't... I just..." Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "I wanted to go. I wanted to just _sleep_," she choked out, her voice shaking. "It all just hurt so much and I couldn't take it anymore." She turned to him, her eyes staring into his searchingly. She hadn't even meant to look at him, but the second her eyes found his it was as if she couldn't turn away. "I never meant to hurt you and Marti, I just... I couldn't do it anymore, Derek," she said, knowing that her voice was pleading for his understanding.

He reached out, his palm gliding across her cheek as his fingers slid into her hair. He pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her tightly. And she broke, her chest heaved, her eyes bled with tears and she sobbed against his shoulder. Her hands groped at his shirt, balling it up beneath them and keeping her against him. He smelled nice, felt warm and comforting, and she didn't want to think about how he tasted. It all still hurt, everything still felt fresh and broken. She wanted him to take it away, to replace it with something else. Hadn't he asked the same of her? She had given that to him. And even if he didn't love her, she loved him. That should be enough for her, enough to do something considered irrational and possibly stupid. But she was a mess, and messes don't think properly.

He held her close, but not enough to keep her from maneuvering her face up. Her hand lifted from his shoulder, cupping his cheek and directing his face down. She stared at his mouth for a moment, her gaze venturing up to his as she tipped her mouth. She caught his lips in a trembling need for love. Her body straightened out, giving her more leverage as she held her mouth against his.

His hands were both pressing and resistant to pull her closer. She moved so she was aligned with his body, which meant throwing her leg over to the other side of his lap, straddling him. His head was tipped back while she hovered above, her mouth wrapped around his top lip while his cradled her bottom.

She slipped her tongue in, slow and delicate, wondering if he was going to pull back and tell her that he really wasn't interested. But he seemed rather accepting of it all, he wasn't exactly kissing back, but he wasn't pushing her away either. And as her tongue met his, it came to life, tangling with hers instead of avoiding the inevitable. The hand he hid in her hair fell from the straight strands, trailing down her back and landing on her hip.

Empty, so empty.

She broke away from his mouth, trailing kisses across his jaw and moving down his neck. His skin was warm, inviting. One of her hands was buried in his hair, fingers playing with the soft strands leisurely, while the other fell from his cheek, grazing his neck and descending his torso. Her palm was pressed up against his chest, falling to rest against his navel. His breathing had picked up and his eyes were closed. He did nothing to stop her, letting her mouth devour his tasty neck, searching for something resembling emotion on him. She needed this, needed to forget pain and hurt, needed to experience feelings. And she felt it for him, she loved him.

She loved his smirk and his cocky grin. She loved his wild brown hair that always seemed manicured to look just right. She loved his rumbling laugh that left her tingly all over. And the way his strong arms wrapped around her in an embrace that spoke wonders of comfort and protection. She loved his voice and its deep relaxing texture. His sarcasm and his biting wit, which went hand in hand with Derek Venturi wherever he went. She loved how he cared for her when let himself worry and how he always was with Marti. She loved how their mouths fit together like puzzle pieces and how he managed to make it all hurt less just by hugging her. She loved him; in every possible way. Whether he's the cocky, smug, hockey player, or the lonely, hurt, lost boy she was kissing now. And she wanted to have all of him, even if it would only last one night. Even if when she woke up he told her it was a mistake and that it could never happen again. She needed it anyway.

Her hand on his stomach ventured lower, wrapping around the bottom of his shirt, raising it some and letting her fingers dance over his tight abdomen. He hissed slightly at the contact of her hand on him, but he didn't stop her. She raised his shirt higher, reaching above his ribs now. Her hand ventured behind him, running across the bare contours of his back before flitting back to the front to raise it higher. She was moving it slowly, almost as if she were trying to make it appear as if it wasn't nearly off him, so he wouldn't suspect anything. She was lavishing his Adam's apple with her mouth while he ran his hands up and down her back, fingers digging lightly.

It wasn't until she managed to get his shirt to his shoulders that he seemed to notice something out of sorts. It would've been a little hard to get it off his arms without him noticing anyway. She trailed her mouth back up to his though, trying to distract his now open and probing eyes as they stared at her. She nibbled at the side of his mouth, drawing his lips in between her as she moved across to be center with his mouth. He returned her kiss, his lips moving to meet hers every time they brushed against his, but he continued to look at her, asking her what she was doing. They were such a warm chocolate colour, and they appeared sincere in their questions. She wanted to tell him what her heart had to say, but she knew he didn't feel the same. So she said what the rest of her felt, what the rest of her needed.

"I'm empty, Derek," she whispered against his mouth, staring into his eyes. "I need you. Just..." She kissed him, her hands leaving his shirt to cup his face. She put all she could into that kiss, the passion, the love, the need. "Just make it go away," she asked. She moved her mouth across his face, until she was kissing the skin beneath his ear. One of her hands moved to the nape of his neck, ascending his head to run through his hair, the strands rushing across her palm. "I don't want to be empty anymore," she said softly, her breath running over his ear.

o_TBC_o

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A/N** _Terribly sorry for the long wait__. Please forgive me! I'll try to update again much sooner! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. Please leave a review, I'd like to know what you think._

o**_BDT_**o


	15. o15o

_**Warning**: Sexual situations ahead. Not very grahpic._

_**For Marti**_

o15o

He wanted to be angry at her, to shout at her for causing him such turmoil, for scaring him to the point where he wasn't sure he could take anymore. But he understood what she was saying, he knew how she felt and why she did it. He had been there himself, he had sliced himself up with the shards of a picture to alleviate the pain, to get away from everything and everyone. And he knew what if felt like to think there was nothing left and nobody to love him or care for him. He lost his family, two people who accepted him as is, and another two who had learned to love him. He was left with a little girl who needed fathering, and a woman just as broken as him. He had responsibilities and people relying on him, but he had still tried to take the easy way out. Did he feel that way anymore? There was still a painful agony that lay inside, tearing him up and ripping at his soul. There were still fears that the future didn't hold anything worth living for. But he was willing to work through it, to keep living. If only for Marti, for a little girl who didn't deserve anymore loss and heartbreak.

And he was giving up a lot in the end. He would be walking away from dreams of hockey and his own business. He'd be leaving the comfort zone of living on his own, making something of himself, proving his mother wrong, and having a real life. He'd be walking away from Casey, because she wasn't willing to go on the run. She wanted justice and legal papers stating a claim on Marti. But it was highly unlikely that he would get Marti, and though he wished it could be Casey's way, he wasn't willing to gamble his sister's livelihood. His mother could _not_ have her. He wouldn't allow it. If it meant sacrifice, then he'd do it.

He had a choice now, a very big one. Because Casey was offering something he knew he'd never have again. She was offering comfort and love, a connection for one night only. She needed him and he needed her. A few days from now, he'd be gone. He'd be somewhere in the States, or a few provinces away from her. He'd never hear her voice again, he'd never see the smile that had been missing for so long. He'd never hold her again or feel the perfection of her lips against his. And that caused an ache in his chest that burned so much it caused tears of anguish to rise up in his eyes.

He wanted to be a good person and tell her that it wasn't right. To soothe her a different way, to make her feel more fulfilled without using their bodies, but he craved the idea of having her wholly. There was a voice in his head, the gentleman part of him, that sought to find another way to help her and him. But a more reigning voice, the larger part of him that loved her, it wanted to continue kissing her and holding her, and having her in every way she'd allow. Because he couldn't say the words, but he could show her in actions. He could make her body feel the full weight of his feelings, even if he was unwilling to admit them. It would only hurt her more. Knowing that while he loved her, he could still walk away.

Her words echoed in his head, "_I need you... Make it go away... I don't want to be empty anymore_." He felt that emptiness, he wanted it to be taken away just as bad. And she was so warm, so intoxicating, so unbelievably perfect in his arms. He had tried not to react, he had let her do what she wanted when she started kissing him, feigning as though he didn't care and was simply letting her have her way. But it had been too much, the taste of her had enveloped him and his dam of resistance broke. His hands held her, pulled her, touched as much of her skin as they could. His mouth cradled hers, loved hers, melted into her kisses. And his body became a submissive vessel.

His shirt was practically already off of him, and he only noticed when the mildly chilly air met his chest and felt the bunching of it beneath his arms. He didn't know what to say to her request, because he still thought this was a half bad idea. But she had submitted to his need for contact when he was dying, wasn't this somewhat the same? Maybe he was just trying to justify the act of having her. He didn't stop her when she pulled the shirt the rest of the way off, instead lifting his arms for her. His eyes were locked with hers, watching for some kind of uncertainty, of worry or anxiety. But while they were still predominantly covered in sadness and sorrow, he could see a very veiled spark of adoration there behind the blue ocean depths of her eyes.

He remembered how she talked to him in the bathroom while she thought he was George. How she had admitted to loving him, to saying it back while he was taken away by the paramedics. How she had been about to admit it to him in the hospital before he broke her heart. And he was reminded of the fact that she also believed he truly knew he could hurt her like no other. How would she feel when this is all over? He was leaving, she knew that. So why hurt herself this way? Why give herself to him like this when the knowledge that it was the one and only time it would ever happen was fresh and real? Maybe it was the pain talking, maybe she just wanted to alleviate this agony and wasn't thinking of the future.

Her hands danced over his torso, fingers dipping into the twists and turns of his sculpt. She held him close, pressing her shirt covered upper body against his. Her mouth was coaxing him into what she wanted and his thoughts were fading away, like weightless dreams he couldn't grasp. Words sat at the end of his tongue, slowly being washed away by her warm, devouring kisses. His eyes were falling shut and he knew that with it, his concerns would go too. They were already leaving him and a peaceful relaxation was taking over, along with the burning need to take her shirt off and feel her heated skin against his own.

She broke away from his mouth, pressing her lips in a trail down his throat and his eyes fluttered. "I... I'll be gone in a few days," he reminded, his voice sounding croaky and thick.

"I know," she told him, a moments pause before she began kissing her way down his chest.

Part of him wanted to believe that she didn't know the ramifications of all this. That she had forgotten about his plan to leave. Another part worried that maybe she was just looking at him as a way of solace. That if he were Sam, she'd still do this, because she needed to get rid of some of the emptiness. That thought scared him. What if this wasn't about her feelings for him at all? What if he was just a tool to stop hurting? Wouldn't that be better though? Then he could leave, he could go without worrying over how she was coping.

She lifted her face from his chest, her fingers pressed against his abdomen. "I'm not asking you to love me, Derek," she breathed, her eyes not exactly meeting his. "I'm not even asking you to change your mind about leaving with Marti." She shook her head, inhaling a shuddering breath. "I'm asking you to give me one night where it doesn't hurt. Where I can fall into a peaceful sleep. Where..." She sighed, the sound tearful and morose. "When it's done, we'll go back to being Casey and Derek, all right? Back to fighting if you want, or complete silence if that's better. Just give me one night," she whispered, her eyes flickering to his.

He wanted to tell her he already loved her and she didn't have to ask for it. He wanted to admit that if she were to ask him not to leave with Marti, he might actually stay. Because he was selfish and he didn't want this night to be the only one with her. He wanted to tell her he didn't want to go back to their fighting or their indifference of each other. That he wanted to keep up their honesty and their comfort with each other. But he couldn't say any of that, because she wasn't willing to hear it. She probably wouldn't believe him at first, and by the time she did, he'd have left with Marti. Because she wouldn't ask him to stay. She'd be angry and upset, confused about why he would lie to her about loving her and then not loving her and then loving her again.

And maybe she only wanted this night. Maybe loving him was too much for her and she wasn't sure she could manage a future with him. There would be complications and issues everywhere. If he stayed, he'd have to go through the legalities of adopting Marti. People might not accept that as a couple. His mother could use it against him in court during the adoption procedures. What happens if it didn't work out, either? What if they broke up one day? He would still have to see her because she'd be unwilling to abandon Marti's life. Or what if she stopped loving him in the future? What if they were just bound for destruction?

It shouldn't matter, his mind was made up. He was leaving. Not long after the funeral, he was going to take Marti and leave. Maybe he'd wait for the money from the house, or maybe he could have Casey deposit it for him or send it to him. He needed to stop thinking about them as a couple because it wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen. He had to go and she had to stay. But what about tonight? What about right now? Why didn't he deserve to love her for this moment? Why couldn't he relish in the last bit of happiness that would come out of the disaster that had ruined both of their lives? She wanted him, she _needed_ him. So wasn't it excusable? Justified? Right?

Her hands curled around the bottom of her shirt and she began inching it up her body, looking uncomfortable and rather uncertain. He hadn't answered her and maybe she was a little self conscious about her body. It wasn't fear of what she wanted from him, just whether he'd agree to it. He reached out, stilling her hands for just a moment. He stared down at the small slip of midriff he could see and questioned himself. He swallowed thickly, his eyes running over the sliver of heated, tanned skin. He brushed his thumb over it and nearly smiled as goosebumps appeared and she shivered against him. He looked up at her face, noticing that she was watching his hands, a frown of worry on her face.

He turned them, laying her down on the couch and hovering over her. Swallowing worry and anxiety, he replaced it with the notion that one night could feel like forever. He smoothed her shirt up a little more, before leaning in and pressing a warm kiss beside her belly button. While slowly lifting her shirt higher, he trailed up her torso, brushing his mouth over her warm skin, lavishing every part he revealed. He slipped her top over her shoulders and above her head, dropping it to the floor beside the couch. His hands wrapped around her shaking upper half of her arms as they lifted to wrap around his neck. He kissed across her shoulders and chest, setting a languid pace, tasting all of her. He could hear her breathing pick up and felt her stomach lift quickly, pressing into his, in tune with her racing pulse.

His hands shook, but he held onto her tight enough not to let her feel it. He smoothed his palms down her sides, thumbs brushing against her skin at every curve. He lifted his head, after making his way up her throat, to spread soft kisses against her chin and over her cheeks. Her eyes were half closed, though she watched his every move. Her mouth had parted and he could feel her breath against him as she panted from the consuming feelings running through her. His every nerve seemed to be on end, wired to the point where he couldn't stop touching her, feeling every part of her.

He ran his hand down her leg, cupping the underside of her thigh and then running it back up on top of it. She lifted her hips, pressing against him in a way that had him groaning from the depths of his throat against the corner of her mouth. Her hands descended his back, fingers pressing into his skin, urging him closer, exploring the dips and tensed muscles over the expanse of skin. He felt like he should be saying something, reassuring her or telling her that he loved her. But some of his words felt pointless and others felt like a goodbye.

Breaking away from her face, he turned his head so he could kiss his way up and down her arm, wanting to have pressed his mouth to every part of her in hopes that he would remember vividly the twists, turns, curves and dips of her entire body. One of her hands slipped into his hair, her fingertips running circles over his skin, leaving a trail of sensations all over him. He could feel a shiver run down his back and tried to stop himself from shaking against her. He felt vulnerable so close to her, like she could read his every movement and knew his deepest thoughts. As though every kiss left behind the three words he was chanting in his head. "_I love you, I love you, I love you..._"

The rest of their clothes were removed slowly, almost without his knowledge at some points. He was distracted by her body so much he hadn't paid nearly any attention to his own. He could feel every sensation she was causing him, but he ignored it in favor of making her feel. Before long though, they were wrapped in each other, no barriers at all, be them emotional or physical. He had wanted to ask her if she was sure, but she silenced him with her mouth and urged him forward until he was with her, binded in soul and body. He lay still for a few moments, worried when she cried out against his mouth, her eyes clenched shut. There was a small alarm going off in his head, shouting at him that he was her first. Her first love, her first intimate experience, her first everything really. And it would be the last for them, which only made him angry and sad.

Her arms wrapped tight around his back, her hands pressing against his skin and her mouth detached from his to roam around his neck. She moved against him and he knew she was asking him to continue. Part of him rebelled, it wanted to stay just where he was, as if time would abide by his not moving and everything would just freeze where it was. He didn't want it to keep going, if only because it meant there was an end. And with that would come a silent agreement that this was there goodbye. So she wouldn't look for him when he disappeared days later, she wouldn't expect a phone call or a letter. She would forget about him, and while he would never stop thinking of her, he would have to accept the inevitable.

Love, in all of its painful existence, could exist between people who avoid it. It could bring together the hurt and the happy. It could break hearts and mend them. And it could leave you desolate in an existence where having it and not having it hurt just the same. It could last moments or years, lifetimes or one night alone. For her, she would bury it. She would take this night with her and she'd remember that for one beautiful night she had shared something with someone she deeply loved. And then she'd hide it away, think of it only as a memory; both painful and wonderful. She'd move on one day, fall in love with someone stable and normal. Someone whose parents were still alive. And she'd have a real future with him, one she couldn't have with Derek.

But for him, he would spend his life on the run with a child who lost too many, too young. He would remember his feisty equal, with her raven hair that slipped smoothly through his fingers. He'd remember her dark blue eyes, that spoke volumes of intelligence and wit. He'd remember the curve of her waist, the supple texture of her lips, the taste of her warm tongue. And he'd be awash in this night for as long as his memory held. Because while their love was bound to fall apart and fade as they went their separate ways, he would forever remember her. He spent too long waiting to have her, he figured he had a lifetime for her to recognize him and his feelings. But as his dad and brother had proved, along with his step sister and step mother, lifetime's can be cut short. Nobody can predict the future, nobody can rely on time. And his time with Casey was almost all used up.

"Derek," she breathed against his mouth, her voice soft and understanding.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as he loved her in way she'd never been loved before. Their bodies moved and met in a dance of adoration and emotions both dark and beautiful. He stroked the fires of ecstasy in her while just barely restraining the powerful words his mouth begged to tell her. He kissed every inch his mouth could reach, touched, caressed, and held every curve she possessed, and whispered every adoring word he could think of besides those of which he desired to say most. He told her she was beautiful, he breathed loving words about how incredible she was and how wonderful she felt.

He hated himself for the tears that gathered in his eyes and he refused to release them until she was fast asleep or he was left alone in his desolation. She clasped his hand with hers, holding it tightly, fingers entwined, as she breathed heavily against his shoulder. Her thick noises had him reaching an edge that he truly didn't want to get to. Her hair brushed against his cheek, delicate and smelling sweetly of her vanilla shampoo, it was so certifiably Casey that he felt his heart lurch, and he let out a strangled sound that was a mix between strangled sob and passionate moan. Her arm snaked up his back, her nails digging into his skin between his shoulder blades.

The ache of sadness over the death of his family was thrumming far inside him, but it was being overlapped by the rising crescendo of intimacy between him and Casey. However, that too was being nearly overrun, with his fears of the inevitable end and the knowledge that would come with it. Would she get up and leave? Brush it off like it was nothing? Would she pretend it never happened tomorrow and start acting like the old Casey who hated him? Could he handle that? He wasn't even sure he could continue making love to her without breaking down and admitting that his feelings for her were far deeper than he'd ever felt before.

His body was shaking with his suppression of the end and he could hardly think straight anymore. It was nearly painful, holding back so much, physically and emotionally. He caught her eyes, staring up at him with a glazed, passion filled ardor. He captured her mouth, teeth grazed her lips, and he put all he could into it. She was tensing against him, her body rising and her arm tightening around him as she hit her peak. He could feel her burst of noise in his mouth and tangled his tongue with hers as he let himself fall apart entirely. His back arched and his eyes fell shut tightly, stopping tears and tensing against the roll of ecstasy consuming him. His breathing was thick and heavy. His arms were shaky as they held him up above her.

Nuzzling her neck, he kissing her slowly, her damp skin heated against his mouth. Her arm was loose against his back, but her fingers held on. He rubbed his thumb against her palm where he held her hand in his. She panted against his shoulder, and he could practically hear the quick beat of her heart. She said nothing though, didn't tell him to move or stay. She just lay there, her eyes closed and her body warm and soft beneath his. She hadn't let him go and he took that as a good sign. Without the buildup of emotions trampling over each other, he was beginning to get control of his anger and sadness. He wasn't going to cry. He'd done that so much with her and he was tired of feeling lost and alone.

Worried that he might be heavy on top of her, he slipped a hand beneath her back and flipped them over carefully. She didn't question the action, instead laying out across his chest with her eyes closed and her fingers lightly grazing up and down the side of his neck. Her head sat comfortably beneath his chin and he could feel her slowly relaxing, as if she were already tired enough to fall straight to sleep. He understood that exhaustion, but he worried that if he closed his eyes, he'd open them to find a completely different Casey.

"Case," he whispered, startling himself when he said it.

"Hmm?" she replied, shifting her head a little.

He didn't know what to say, he hadn't planned to speak at all, it just sort of escaped him. "I..." He trailed off, knowing that he wanted to say, but keeping it locked away. "I don't want us to go back to how we used to be. I don't... Can we just not act like we hate each other or..." He shook his head, closing his eyes. "Can we just _be_?" He wasn't sure if she'd understand what he meant, he wasn't even sure what he meant. He just didn't want them to be their sixteen year old selves, or a mocking, fake version of how they were now. He wanted them to stay comfortable, to be able to speak without edge or darkness.

She sighed, a sad, quiet noise. "We can do that," she replied, her hand squeezing his for a moment.

He was content with her reply, and when she fell asleep in his arms not long after, he let himself relax. Silent tears fell down the sides of his face, and he held her as strongly as he could without waking her. A blanket was hanging over the top of top of the couch, so he pulled it down to cover them. He knew Marti wouldn't be awake for hours and he hoped that Casey's aunt didn't show up at the apartment and wake her. Running his hand up and down Casey's bare back, he clenched his jaw when the need for letting out his frustration became a strangled noise in his throat. He could do this. He could let her go. He had to.

oOo

The next morning was awkward. He woke up to her moving across him to get to her clothes. With the light coming in through the window, he could clearly see her and had to close his eyes before he reached out to hold her. He let her dress, pretending not to be paying attention. She didn't say anything to him, glancing over at his face nervously as she pulled on her clothes before making her way to her bedroom to get something clean to wear for the day and then making her way to the shower. After pulling on his boxers and pants, he threw his arm over his eyes and considered going back to sleep.

He would have, had someone not knocked at the door. He thought about ignoring it but knew it was Casey's aunt and she likely wouldn't leave until somebody answered. So he rose from the couch, ran a hand over his messy hair, and walked over to open the door. His eyes caught the broken lock and he was overwhelmed with the memory of what had happened just the day before. He wondered if he looked as tired and heavy as he felt. Unlocking the door, he pulled it open, staring at the blotchy complexion of Casey's aunt, Fiona. She rushed forward before he could say anything and he was suddenly being awkwardly hugged. He glowered at the attention, wanting nothing more than to shut the door in her face and crawl back onto the couch. Her flowery blouse felt scratchy against his bare chest and he scowled down at the rather ugly shirt.

"How are you holding up? Are you okay? Is Casey? Where is Marti?" Fiona asked quickly, her voice sounding strangled and scared. "Listen to me," she said, shaking her head at her behavior. "I _know_ you're not okay. Oh, honey, you must be so..." She sighed and for a moment, he closed his eyes and thought she sounded exactly like Nora.

His step mother had a soothing voice, comforting and understanding. He missed her. And when the reality of the fact that he was being hugged by her sister,a poor substitute for the real thing, he cleared his throat and backed away from her. He tried not to look angry, but he was pretty sure he was failing. He wasn't in the mood for visitors or sympathy. He was reminded of the fact that he should want somebody to take care of him, to tell him it would get better, that it hurt, but one day it wouldn't. Instead, he just wanted to tell the entire world to go to hell and leave him alone.

"Casey's in the shower," he told her, making his way into the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of water. "Marti's sleeping."

She nodded, closing the door behind her and walking a little further into the apartment. Her eyes roamed around and landed on the blanket by the couch. She looked as though she sighed and he wondered if it she was reassured by the fact that he was sleeping on the couch. The old Derek would have smirked at the reality of what happened on the sofa, and Fiona's wrong assumption. However, the dark, angry Derek wasn't in the mood and he rubbed a hand over his eyes in the hopes that he could clear them of the pressure surrounding them. He had a lot to do that day and a headache combined with his brimming anger at everything wasn't going to help. He thought he was past this point. He thought he'd gotten over his irritation with everything, but it had suddenly returned and he didn't know what to do with it.

Fiona cleared her throat, sitting uncomfortably at the dining room table. She held her purse in her hands, so tight her knuckles had turned white. "Vicky is out in the car," she told him, her eyes downcast. "I wasn't sure how Casey was doing and I didn't know you and Marti were here still. So... I thought she might want to talk alone."

Derek nodded, feeling as though meaningless conversation wasn't something he could do at the moment.

"Derek, I know I'm not... I'm not someone you know well, or..." She sighed, swallowing. "My sister was a wonderful woman and she always spoke highly of you. I know I'm not her and I can never... But I want you to know, that if you ever need help with anything or if... If you just want to talk, I'm here and... I'll always have time for you," she offered, sounding both hopeful and concerned.

He nodded, not sure what else to do.

They lapsed into a pregnant silence and he busied himself drinking his cold bottle of water. He felt stiff and uncomfortable. He wanted to just leave, but it wasn't as if he had a logical reason to skip out on everything. She was being nice, he guessed. Trying to offer him sympathy and an understanding ear. He didn't want it though. Didn't want to talk to her or share what he knew of Nora with her. He just wanted to be left alone. He'd make it through without her help, or anybodies really. As long as he had Marti, he'd be fine. He could stay in touch with Sam, too, he decided, and he would better understand what Derek was going through. But talking with someone like Fiona, that just wasn't an option for him. Sure, she was Nora's family and she probably knew her even better than him. But he wasn't interested in hearing about _that_ Nora. _Her_ Nora. He'd rather work through the problem of not having his step mother without the added grief of knowing other people had had her longer, known her better.

He decided to wake Marti up, and informed Fiona of this, to be polite. She nodded at him, looking as though she wanted to say more but wasn't sure how to talk to him. He was reminded once more why Nora couldn't be easily replaced. Walking into Casey's bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at the sleeping form of his little sister. She was angled funny and her hair was a mass of tangles and knots. He had no idea how she did it every night, but her hair always gathered into a rats nest overnight. He didn't want to wake her just yet, maybe because he didn't want to subject her to Fiona's fawning questions and worries. She was a nice woman, he guessed, and she was only trying to be understanding. After all, her sister had been killed in the crash. But he felt angry that she wanted to help him, and he didn't know why. He started to worry about what the funeral would be like and whether he'd have to hide his anger all through as people passed him their condolences.

He heard the creak of the door and knew Casey was walking into the bedroom. She had a bathrobe around her and her hair hung down, dripping heavily. She stared at him a moment, a towel in one hand. She lifted it, running it over face and then ringing the water off her hair. "You aunt is here," he told her, returning his attention to Marti. He was met with silence, but he noticed that she had stiffened some. "And your cousin Vicky is in the car."

She sighed, quiet but thick.

"We have to go to the funeral home in a few hours, pick out those caskets," he added, his voice emotionless. "I think I'll head over to the house after that, start cleaning." He could hear the rustle of clothes and knew she was changing. He didn't look up, though it took a lot of his control. If he closed his eyes tight enough and thought back, he could still feel her skin beneath his palms, still smell the scent of her hair, and still hear her breathy voice as it said his name, over and over.

Clearing his throat, he shook is head of the thoughts. "Could you watch Marti? Your aunt will probably want to spend the day with you and I can get Sam to help me with the house." He wasn't doing it just because he needed some time to get himself under control, but because these would be the last few days Casey would have with Marti. Maybe in the future he could come back, when nobody was looking for them any longer. Marti would be upset when she realized they were leaving without Casey, but she'd grow to understand. And years from now, when they got to see each other again, he didn't want them to have too many regrets. If he let Casey have her for awhile, maybe she could get in as much as possible. Obviously not enough to last a lifetime, but she could at least relish in what time she had. Couldn't she?

"Thank you," she replied, so clear and knowing that he wasn't surprised that she knew his intentions right off the bat.

Derek nodded, looking up when he thought she had finished with her clothes, only to see a small sliver of her stomach before it was hidden away by her shirt. She walked over to the dresser, picked up her brush and ran it through her long, damp hair. He wasn't looking forward to what would happen when they left the room. Fiona would become weepy and comforting and he'd have to stand awkwardly by as she talked to Casey about Nora. She'd probably get into stories about their childhood and maybe even talk about the fact that they weren't as close as they used to be. That it upset her how she didn't see her sister since the wedding. And Derek would silently fume over the fact that he saw Nora every Thursday and he never really told her how much she meant over the years. How she had made mothers look much more caring and understanding than he'd ever known them to be. How much she had helped him since she had become his step mother.

"Are you going out with Sam soon, or did you want to come for breakfast?" Casey asked, looking over at him. "Because I can just tell Fiona that you had something to do at the house, she'll understand."

Derek nodded, standing up slowly. "I'm not really hungry and the house is a mess, so..."

"Derek Venturi, voluntarily cleaning," she said, smiling ever so slightly, "what has the world come to?"

He half-smiled, moving to pass her on the way out of her room but then stopped. He knelt down beside her, glancing briefly at the large mirror propped on her dresser. They looked good together, he decided. Before he could think too much on it, he leaned up to her, pressed a kiss to her lips, short but sweet, and then stood back up. He trailed the back of his fingers down the curve of her delicate neck. "We'll get through this," he told her, and it sounded a lot more reassuring than he thought it would.

After assuring her he'd meet her at the funeral home at ten-thirty, he walked out of the room, leaving Marti to be woken up by Casey at her discretion. She might want to talk to Fiona for awhile, it was up to her. He couldn't stomach the idea of sharing what was going on with him with anybody but Casey or Sam. Making his way into the living room, he picked up his shirt and slipped it on, remembering briefly how she had taken it off of him, slowly. Folding the blanket they had been wrapped in, he left it on the couch and walked to the front door, slipping his shoes on. He had been avoiding looking at Fiona, but he finally did before he opened the door.

Turning to her, he successfully removed the grimace from his face, though he was sure he looked anything but friendly. "Take care of her," Derek told her, his eyes meeting her teary ones firmly. "And make sure she eats her breakfast, but nothing too heavy. She hasn't been eating much and she'll get sick if she..." He shook his head, clearing his throat. "Don't let her tell you she's fine, because she's not. If she cries, let her, it's a good sign." He nodded, feeling as though he was giving the responsibility he had for the person he loved most to someone who would never know her like he did. He felt tears building up again, but he blinked them away.

"I will," Fiona promised and there was such a firm vow in her words that he believed her. She stared back, her eyes unwavering and her concern for both him and her niece was evident. There was something else there too, an understanding of different proportions. "You really..." She shook her head and he was almost certain that she had figured it all out. "I'll take care of her, Derek."

He nodded, "Thanks," he said simply, before opening the door and hurrying out of it. He felt his keys in his pants pocket and half ran down the stairs and across the parking lot. When he was finally situated in his car, he took in a deep breath, letting it out in a shuddering mess. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he shook his head. He was not going to break down. He was going to figure all of this out and it was all going to fine. He would go to his families funeral, he would shake the hands of mourning friends, co-workers, and family. He would say a few words about his brother and his father, though they would never fully capture his families greatness. And he would drive out of London, Ontario with a little girl in the back seat. He would look back at her through the rear view mirror and he would know. Deep down, he would know. He was doing the right thing.

oTBCo

* * *

**A/N**

o**BDT**o


	16. o16o

**Dedicated to**: _Everybody who stuck with this story, despite my horrible updating schedule and those who have PM'd and reviewed to encourage me to write more. I'm sorry it was such a long wait, but I hope this makes up for it! Some Marti/Casey bonding for you..._

**_For Marti_**

o16o

Casey watched him go, feeling a heavy worry fall on her shoulders. She'd see him in a few hours, she knew, but in a few days, that was a whole different story. He was leaving her, and while she understood why it had to happen, she couldn't quell the abandonment that swelled up inside her. She cloaked it though, doing her best not to let him know that simply seeing him made her heart jump and her stomach clench. The night before had been more amazing than she could have imagine. The way he touched her, the soul searing feel of his kisses, and how unbelievably gentle he was with her, it had left an imprint she couldn't erase. She had never felt more connected with a person in her entire life, and it wasn't just physical. Throughout their intimate embrace, she felt as though their souls had entwined in a dance of colossal proportions.

When she had asked him to take the ache away, to fill the void, she figured it would end with a superficial fulfillment, but as she came down from the passionate flurry of everything, she was caught up in how utterly warm and calming it was to be held by him. She didn't want to move, she didn't even want to breathe, she just wanted to soak it all in. She forgot everything and it was bliss. She was awash in his scent, his feel, his every fiber. Throughout the entire thing, she had been so emotionally relaxed that she wanted to cry out that she loved him, she wanted to whisper it against his neck, to breathe it into his mouth. But she couldn't, because when it was all over, she was torn apart by his words to her just a few nights prior. "_I don't love you_." And she knew she couldn't give him a reason to stay, his mind was made up and she couldn't change it.

She wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake, asking him for something so lasting and tender. She would never be able to forget it, it was ingrained in her skin. It felt as though his hands were still caressing her, his mouth still kissing her, his body still loving her. She wanted both for it to stop and continue. She didn't want to forget him and yet she couldn't handle remembering it. He was going to leave, and while he was gone, she'd be left with the shattered pieces to repair.

Gathering herself, she walked over to Marti and shook her awake softly, sliding her palm over the messy mass of hair and chuckling to herself. She felt tears roll down her cheeks and knew that she had gotten far too deep into her thoughts of Derek. Wiping them away quickly, she tried to look cheerful for Marti as she stirred awake. She mumbled something that sounded like pancakes and Casey had to wonder how the little girl could handle eating the very same thing every single day and still find it to be tasty. Casey rummaged around in her closet until she found a small collection of clothes that had gathered over the time Marti had spent at her place during random weekends. She helped the girl as she tiredly rubbed her eyes, into a pair of purple pants and a white t-shirt. Then she set to work on Marti's hair, using a spray she had on her dresser for loosening knotted hair. It didn't help much and Marti ended up crying out a lot about the pain she was feeling, but they did manage to get her hair straightened out eventually.

Finally, Casey told her they were going out for breakfast with her aunt Fiona and cousin Vicky. "Icky Vicky?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Casey half-smiled, feeling as though her face hurt just from the small show of happiness. "Yes, but don't call her that to her face, okay?" She got along with her cousin, better than before, but she wasn't her favorite person. "Come on, you can have pancakes at the restaurant, if you want."

"I only want Smerek's pancakes," she told her, sounding morose. "Where is he?" she wondered, looking around.

Casey shook her head. "Derek is back at the house, cleaning and hanging out with Sam for awhile. So it's just going to be me and you for the day, at least after my aunt and cousin leave us alone. Okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

Marti perked up, looking excited by the idea of hanging out with Casey all day. "Okay!" she exclaimed, grinning.

Nodding, Casey stood up from the bed, her hand searching out Marti's as they moved from the bedroom. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to put up with her aunt. She knew Fiona would be hurting, that she'd have a lot to say, but Casey wasn't yet ready for the coddling or the emotional heart-to-heart. She still harbored love for silence. The darkness was a friend, filtering out the harsh rays of a new day and giving her a sense of stillness. She needed that. Needed to know that for that moment nothing was getting worse, nobody was asking anything of her. So long had her life been made up of deadlines and a new journey, but now she wanted to just sit still in her living room. She wanted to hold Derek's hand in hers, listen to nothing but the steady rhythm of his breathing and know that for that one dark, quiet moment, he was there. Because she knew that soon he too would be gone and it'd just be Casey then. It'd just be plain, orphaned Casey, with no family and no Derek. Her mother and sister were gone, her step father and step brother dead with them. Her Derek and Marti were leaving her too, even if the spritely little girl had no idea that within a few days she'd never set eyes on Casey again. She'd be all alone and it was a terrifying reality that she wasn't ready to face.

The door closed with a resounding thump and it took all of three steps to bring her to the dining room where she was then accosted by her aunt. Tearful and high pitched, Fiona threw her arms around Casey and held on for dear life. Casey expected Marti to shy away from it, maybe to ask her why she was so upset or to go off and search the TV for Sesame Street, but Marti stuck close, her hand wrapped tightly in Casey's still and her form pressed against her leg, a sad expression on her usually happy face. Casey squeezed her hand before letting it go, moving it to stroke Marti's hair affectionately. She could barely make out what her Aunt Fiona was saying, her crying overlapping so much of her speech, but she understood what was meant to be said. "_We'll get through this together_," and "_I understand what you're going through_," and of course the ever usual, "_I'm so sorry_." But the fact of the matter was that within a few days Fiona would return to her own home, she would mourn and heal and try to move on from the death of her beloved sister. She would call Casey daily, maybe weekly for the first while, and then time would pass, and Casey would slowly return to being that niece Fiona contacted once in a blue moon, trying to catch up and reassure her that they were still family and would always be there for her. It was the way of things, there was no reason to believe that would change. Casey knew that she wouldn't be going out of her way to stay close to Fiona, it wasn't something she _wanted_ to do. Her aunt was not her mother and the only woman she wanted to talk to at that time, the only woman she wished was hugging her then, was dead. As the knowledge set in her mind, Casey wondered when she became so jaded.

Slowly breaking away from her tight embrace, Fiona ran her hand over Casey's hair, inhaling shakily and wiping at her face. "Oh Casey, how are you?" she asked, her voice hoarse and distraught. "I saw Derek leaving," she said, not waiting for a reply. "Not much of a talker but when he has something to say it really comes out clear," she said rather vaguely, her eyes staring searchingly at Casey. She seemed to find something because she gave a small shrug and a rather bittersweet smile that Casey couldn't really decipher. "Come on. We should get going. Vicky is in the car waiting and I know she's hungry. I figured we could go to Denny's or another home style type restaurant," she told her, wrapping an arm around Casey's shoulder and directing her to the door.

Instead of replying, Casey went along with it, stopping at the door to slip on her shoes and put Marti's coat on her. The little girl took her hand and stuck close to her quietly as they rode the elevator down. Fiona chattered on beside them, her hands knotting together in front of her nervously. She told them all about how her husband just couldn't make it down and he was truly sorry. Casey didn't say anything, seeing as she'd only met the man once and she didn't believe it was all that important that he make it to the funeral. They walked to the car, Fiona still talking a mile a minute. Casey found herself feeling rather sluggish and different. The air felt cool and biting, a startling difference from how warm and still it had been in her apartment. She climbed into the backseat with Marti and clipped their seat belts on. Vicky turned around in her seat, her expression grim and trying to be understanding but not quite making it there. Then again, she still had her mother, so it was pretty hard to sympathize. She chastised herself for being catty in her head and turned her attention to Marti, who was sitting in the middle, leaning into her. Casey stared out the window listlessly as Vicky and Fiona fought over where they wanted to go for breakfast, watching the dreary landscape before her pass and blur together.

The car was hotter than what could be construed as comfortable, Fiona having cranked the heat up. Casey tugged at her collar, feeling stifled in the small space. Marti was squirming and Casey just knew that if they didn't get out soon, Marti was going to start complaining about how hot it was. Finally, they pulled into a Denny's, despite Vicky's irritated sighs and parked in a space near the front entrance. They found a booth, the seats squeaking as they slid inside. Everybody reached for a menu except for Casey who immediately turned her attention to the odd pattern on the table and the fact that the cutlery she was given was covered in water spots. She thinned her eyes, wondering if maybe she should get a new set. They could be dirty. Dishwashers at restaurants didn't have the best track record. She wasn't even hungry, though she had been staving off such feelings for what felt like forever. It was hours ago that Derek had fed her soup, but she wasn't sure she could handle a whole meal. Her regular, careful mind said that breakfast was the most important meal, but she was feeling that familiar emptiness again and she really didn't want to look through the menu.

"Casey, honey, do you already know what you want, or..." Fiona asked, her expression more worried than it should be. She knew then that Derek must have mentioned her eating habits, however vague he might've been. With a sigh, she picked up a menu and scanned through it, feigning interest. "Ooh, the pancakes look mighty good, don't they Marti?" Fiona suggested, smiling at the young girl encouragingly.

With a frown, Marti looked up at Casey and the simple expression spoke wonders. "Anything specific you wanted, Marti?" she wondered, her voice sounding scratchy to her ears.

Shaking her head, Marti turned her eyes back to the menu and searched around glumly. After a few minutes, orange and apple juice were placed in front of Casey, Vicky, and Marti, while a cup of coffee was set in front of Fiona, who was now discussing the Motel they were staying at and all of its not-so-quaint attributes. Suddenly, Casey hated small talk and everybody who participated in it. She wondered what Derek was doing now. If he and Sam were already cleaning or if maybe they were just sitting around, talking. If anybody could reach Derek, it was Sam. Best friends since they were young, the two were just inseparable. Despite a small pang that Casey couldn't be there with him, she tried to focus her attention back on her aunt and cousin. Marti was fidgeting, so Casey stopped a waitress and asked if there were crayons and paper anywhere to distract her. A few minutes later, Marti was well on her way to drawing a great picture for Casey.

"So the arrangements have all been made then," Fiona finally asked, looking quite contrite. "There's nothing you need from me or... or your grandmother, or any of the family?" She lifted a brow questioningly, as if bidding Casey to spill her every feeling on the table and label them with quaint little titles so Fiona could address each one and fix the problem with a perfect little checkmark.

"No. Everything is arranged and taken care of. I've already talked to mom and George's lawyer. The will reading will be done soon, but I know the house is in my and Derek's care. He's cleaning it up now. Him and Sam. I've called a Realtor, she said she can have it sold quickly. It's in a good place, close to school and shopping. Easy sell," she said, her voice toneless.

"Oh..." Fiona said, nodding slowly. "Well... all right." She paused, looking down into her coffee and stirring it. "So... when everything has been finalized, maybe it would be a nice retreat for you to come and spend some time with us," she suggested, looking up at Casey hopefully.

Casey swallowed tightly, her mind whirring with the unpleasant event that her aunt was offering. She'd probably have to share a room with Vicky and wake up each morning to Fiona's overly cheery, fake voice trying to keep her in a happy atmosphere that would suffocate her. She'd have to get those awful pitying looks from Vicky's and Fiona's friends while putting up with Fiona's husband telling her how sorry he was about what happened, even though he didn't know her mother, sister, or step family. She'd have to pretend it didn't hurt just to keep them from trying to press their comfort on her. They'd always be watching what she ate to make sure she wasn't skimping, they'd probably try and make her see a shrink, and she'd be hugged so much she'd grow to hate the embrace. She couldn't do it. She'd die in that environment. She was too dark for that still.

"Actually, I think it might be better if I just try and get back to my regular routine," she replied, trying her best to smile. "I'll talk to Delinda about coming back to work in a few days and I'll return to school. I have a lot of work to catch up on and... and I just think I need to get back to the basics." She nodded slowly, hoping her aunt would understand.

Fiona nodded slowly, her mouth set in a tight smile, but she didn't try and talk Casey out of it, and for that she was grateful. "Well, I have to make a visit to the ladies room. I'll be back shortly. If the waitress returns, order me a bacon and egg omelet with cheddar, please." She stood up from the booth, smoothing out her pants and walked away toward the washrooms, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

The waitress appeared seconds after Fiona left and Vicky ordered for herself and her mom. Since Marti had abandoned looking for something to eat to draw, Casey turned to her and sighed. "Marti, you wanna share something with me?" she asked, running her hand over Marti's cheek.

Looking up with bright blue eyes, Marti nodded. "No pancakes though!" she told her, shaking her head.

"How 'bout the Big Dipper French Toastix?" she wondered, lifting a brow.

"What's that?" the six year old asked her inquisitively. Casey turned the menu to show her the four French toast sticks topped with whip cream stars and a side of one sausage link and a slice of bacon. "Okay," she said cheerfully. "But I get the bacon!" Giving her a faint smile, Casey nodded and turned to the waitress with a nod.

While Marti turned her attention back to her picture, Casey uncomfortably glanced at her cousin and then took a sip from her orange juice. Her mind vaguely reminded her of how often she had to remind every Venturi boy not to drink from the juice jug. A pang struck her chest as she remembered Edwin and George's innocent expression each time she said it. The wide eyes, high brows, barely suppressed smile. It felt like so long ago that she'd seen them, and she'd never have the chance to do so again. Her throat began to ache and she shifted in her seat.

"So..." Vicky said quietly, pulling Casey from her thoughts. "Listen, I'm really sorry about... well everything. I know, I know, it doesn't mean much or help you at all, but..." She sighed, shaking her head, her expression soft and sad. "She was my aunt, you know. I didn't see her enough and I hadn't gone to see any of them in so long. I guess I took it for granted, and..." She bit her lip, her eyes falling. "You were really close to them, Casey, and I can't imagine what you're going through." Not knowing how to reply, Casey simply nodded mutely. They sat in silence for a moment longer, before Vicky finally said, "So hey, how's Derek? I mean, he must be really upset too."

Casey looked up at her sharply, her skin prickling as she remembered that Vicky and Derek had a _thing_ back when Fiona remarried a few years ago. She sat up a little straighter, her hands falling into her lap to curl into fists. "He's dealing with it as best he can," she said, her voice rather crisp.

"Oh," Vicky said, nodding slowly. Her eyes darting away and then back to her, as if checking to see if her mother was coming back yet. "So, I know this is like so not the time, but is he like... is he dating anybody?" she wondered, lifting her brow.

Casey stiffened, her mouth tightening.

"I know! You're right! This is a really bad time," Vicky added quickly, shaking her head when Casey didn't reply right away. "I'm sorry. That was selfish and rude and I didn't mean to disrespect—"

"Smerek loves somebody already," Marti interrupted her, holding a blue crayon against the paper in front of her. She glared at Vicky sourly, her small mouth frowning. "He has for a real long time and he's not gonna stop." She shook her head. "He told me! He said he loved her and he always would," she said, nodding her head for confirmation.

"Oh," Vicky said, her voice rather dejected. "So they've been together awhile then?" she asked, rather quietly, her brows furrowed.

Marti glanced down at her picture and then up at Vicky. "He's loved her forever," she replied simply. Casey's brow furrowed as she stared at Marti rather confused, wondering if Marti was just trying to keep "Icky Vicky" from her brother or if... maybe Derek really did love someone. Someone who wasn't her. She bit her lip, the pain keeping her from making a fool out of herself by crying or asking questions.

Before Vicky could ask anything more, Fiona returned to the table looking sheepish. Her eyes were red rimmed and her face was freshly scrubbed of the makeup she had previously been wearing, making her appear older and brought out the sadness around her eyes. "Sorry. Quite busy," she said, though Casey was sure her aunt had really just been crying.

They sat quietly for a moment, everybody but Marti uncomfortable with the silence. Casey focused her attention on trying to figure out how they wrapped the napkins around the cutlery so tightly. Finally, her aunt broke the quiet with a well meaning question. "So, have your or Derek contacted Marti's mother yet? Will you need any help moving her over there?" she wondered, her brows lifting.

Casey stilled, her eyes moving to Marti who had turned her head quickly, looking angry and upset. Reaching out, Casey put a hand on Marti's back to reassure her, but she still shrieked, "But I don't want to go!" Swallowing, Casey shook her head, opening her mouth to reply only to be cut off by Marti's crying. "I wanna stay with you and Smerek! He said!"

"Shh," Casey soothed, wiping away Marti's tears and pulling her close to her side, hugging her rather awkwardly. "Derek and I already talked about that, Marti. You won't be going to stay with your mom. Derek will be raising you from now on."

"Really?" All three of the women around her asked, two astonished and one hopeful.

Casey kept her focus only on Marti, believing she was most important. "Yes," she told her, nodding. "There's no way Smerek would ever give up his Smarti, is there?" she asked, her voice rather shaky. Marti sniffled, wiping at her face and shaking her head.

"You'll be with us too, right Casey?" Marti asked, looking up at her hopefully.

Before Casey was forced to reply over the lodge of emotion in her throat, the waitress set their food down in front of them, beaming. "There ya are, folks. You need anything, just ask for Bonnie. Refills, then?" she wondered, reaching for Vicky's glass and pointing to Fiona's. They each nodded and then slowly began cutting up their breakfast. The cheerful waitress walked off with the glass, stopping to talk to a few other customers on her way.

"Come on, Marti, you must be hungry. Looks good, doesn't it?" she asked her, turning the plate and handing Marti one of the French toast sticks and moving the syrup in front of her to dip it.

Marti nodded, still looking up at Casey uncertainly. Finally, she just said, "Remember, I get the bacon."

Casey nodded, "I know." She glanced up at Fiona as she picked at her own French toast stick listlessly, filling her mouth with small, syrupless chunks. Her aunt looked at her rather worriedly; questions wrought all over her expression. Casey sighed to herself, it was going to be a long meal.

After breakfast, they all piled back into Fiona's car, Marti holding her restaurant masterpiece tightly in her hand. Having no idea what they could do, given that Fiona didn't appear to want to talk about very much in front of Marti, they sat in the car for a moment. "Well, Casey, did you have plans for today we should know about?" she finally asked.

"Derek and I have to meet at noon, until then it's just me and Marti," she admitted, looking down at the girl beside her. "I was planning on taking her out for awhile though. Get some fresh air," she said, shrugging lightly.

Seeming to understand, her aunt nodded. "Is there anywhere you'd like us to drop you off?" she wondered, her voice soft.

Casey stared at her a moment, wondering if somehow, some way, her aunt had figured it all out. "Covent Market Plaza," she confirmed, nodding slowly.

Starting the car, her aunt backed out of the Denny's parking lot and began the journey over. Vicky played with the radio dial, trying to find a station she liked. Casey listened to their mother-daughter banter about what music was good and what wasn't, neither agreeing on anything. She overheard Fiona chastise Vicky for not knocking the snow off her boots when she got in the car and heard her cousin sigh with exasperation. She felt a familiar pang in her chest and knew that those little moments, the ones that don't seem to matter, really do. She wished her mom was around to tell her simple things like don't trail snow into the car, or try and convince her that certain music was still cool. She wished she had Nora period, no matter what the topic of conversation was. She found herself slumping in her seat, her eyes filling with heated tears. She was tired again and hated how heavy her body felt. She felt claustrophobic and desperately wanted out of the car. Finally, their destination could be seen in the window and she let out a sigh of gratitude. When Fiona parked, she turned around in her seat to see them, smiling wanly. "Okay, well if you need a ride back, you know my cell phone number. I suppose we'll... see you tomorrow," she said, her voice faint.

Casey nodded slowly as she unbuckled Marti. "I was wondering if... if you wanted to talk at the service, or...?" she asked her aunt, looking up at her.

"I... I'm not sure," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "I have a feeling if I go up to talk about her, I'll just start bawling," she said, trying to chuckle but failing. "We'll see," she offered, lifting half of her mouth in a half-frown, half-smile.

"All right," Casey agreed, opening the car door and helping Marti out despite her exclamation of being able to do it herself. "Okay. Thank you for breakfast and..." She looked around uncomfortably. "Thank you for coming. I'll see you tomorrow."

Both Vicky and Fiona nodded silently and Casey shut the door, taking Marti's hand and stuffing her other in her coat pocket. There was a biting chill in the air and she wished she had brought them gloves. She waved goodbye to her aunt and cousin as they pulled out of the parking lot and directed Marti and her toward the Rotary Rink. "Where are we going?" Marti asked impatiently.

"We're going skating," Casey finally told her as they reached the outdoor rink. "Given that Derek is your brother, I'm going to assume he's taught you."

"Sorta," Marti replied, shrugging one shoulder as she smiled out at the people skating past them. "Come on, lets go!" she said, jumping up and down excitedly.

Casey smiled at her softly, taking her hand and bringing her over to a small hut renting skates by the hour. She forced herself not to think about how many feet had been in them previously and paid for a pair for each of them. She led Marti down close to the rink and had her sit down while she laced her up. She had to make Marti promise not to run off without her and wait until she had her own skates on when she noticed how jumpy the six year old was. She kept her eye on her, half-surprised when Marti managed to stay on the bench until Casey was ready. Finally, with their skates on and tight, they made their way toward the ice, looking rather foolish the way they walked. It had been awhile since Casey had gone ice skating, but she was fairly confident it would come back to her quickly. She felt a worried shiver go down her spine, but as soon as her skates hit the ice, she felt the familiar rhythm in her legs and her body accommodated a skater's pose. Marti was a little shaky at first, her free arm flailing and her feet moving only a few inches at a time. But she grinned up at Casey as if she'd just given her the greatest gift ever.

"Can we go fast? Like they are?" she asked, pointing at a couple that were quite obviously very skilled skaters.

She looked back at Marti with disbelief written in her expression. "Maybe after some practice," she replied before shaking her hand and directing her forward. "Turn your feet out, Marti. Like this," she told her, showing her how it was done. Marti slowly began copying her, her small legs making it a little harder.

After a few tries, she began to get the hang of it, smiling up at Casey excitedly. "Look Casey, I'm doing it!" she exclaimed.

"I see you! Good job, Marti!" she told her, feeling one of few genuine smiles breaking out on her face. Casey twirled her around with one hand, laughing as Marti gave a surprised but happy shout. There was faint music playing in the background as they made their way slowly around the rink and she noticed that Marti was bobbing her head side to side to the beat. They swayed back and forth, Casey softly singing to the song and Marti wiggling beside her in her own dance. "You wanna go faster now?" she asked her, lifting a brow. Marti nodded her head vigorously. "Okay, hold on tight to my hand and I'll get us going," she told her.

She felt Marti's hand squeeze hers as she began moving her legs in smaller arcs, instead lurching farther up the ice. Marti simply glided next to her, pulled along next to Casey who angled them around the length of the rink. She felt the breeze hit her face, cool and relaxing and wondered momentarily if it was how Derek felt when he played hockey. She felt free, flying across the ice with nobody but Marti next to her. There were others around her, sure, but they were inconsequential. Marti giggled and smiled as the outside world ran past her, her hand squeezing Casey's in excitement. The gnashing of blades and the cheery laughter of Marti became Casey's lullaby as she finally let her legs stop pumping and just glided.

"Lemme go, I wanna try it on my own," Marti asked, tugging at Casey's arm.

"You sure?" she asked, lifting a skeptical brow.

Giving a sigh, Marti nodded. "Yeah. Lemme go."

Casey felt a burning sensation in her throat. She bit her lip, looking down at the six year old girl smiling up at her with red cheeks and a friendly smile. And she let her go.

Marti skated forward, away from her, her skates taking her a few feet with her rather awkward movements. Like a fawn taking its first steps, she wobbled, her arms flailed, her expression showed surprise and a little fear, and Casey felt the familiar urge to reach out and catch her, to keep her up and not let her feel anything close to pain or failure, but Marti caught her balance. She turned back to Casey and smiled, telling her it was all okay, that she did it, and Casey smiled at her, happy that she had done something all on her own but feeling like she was losing far more than a skating buddy. She followed along near Marti, letting her have her space to skate, but keeping close so not to lose her in the crowd of skaters. She almost made a full loop before she slipped, her feet coming out from beneath her and her arms flailing out to grab onto nothing but air. She fell back, letting out a screech, but Casey caught her just a few inches from where she would've hit.

"You okay?" she asked worriedly.

Marti smiled up at her, letting out a small breath. "Yeah," she said with a nod. Casey let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding. It was likely that Marti wouldn't have been hurt from such a little fall, but it had scared her all the same. "It's okay, Casey. You caught me," she told her, nodding.

Casey smiled, helping her to stand again. "Go on. We only have a few more minutes before we have to return our skates. Then I thought we'd go to the Children's Museum," she suggested. It was too bad that Storybook Gardens wasn't open, Marti would have had a heyday there. Still, the museum was both fun and a learning experience.

"I like the Jellyfish Junction!" Marti exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

Casey smiled, "Me too." She nodded her head forward, "Let's skate a little while longer and then we'll head over, 'kay?"

Marti nodded, but instead of going ahead of her, she took Casey's hand again and started skating with her once more. Surprised, Casey squeezed her hand and they took another trip around the rink, Casey twirling her around at random and dancing with her to the songs that Marti liked. For their last journey around, Marti asked that they go fast again and Casey complied, enjoying the taste of freedom it supplied. Marti's delighted squeals kept her eyes open, otherwise she would've simply let herself go and just relaxed right into the feel. Marti hopped around on her skates, copying Casey as they glided and smiling up at her as if she was just as important as her Smerek ever was. Casey was reminded of just how close the two really were and through the pain of losing them, felt rather justified in the fact that at least Marti would have someone who loved her, rather than Abby.

When their skating came to an end, their cheeks were bright red, their feet ached, and their breathing was rather laboured, but they were happy. Casey undid Marti's skates first and put her shoes back on. Marti ran off to return her skates before Casey could tell her to wait, but watched her go as she sat on a bench, unlacing her own. She heard somebody clear their throat and glanced to her side to see a man who couldn't be too much older than her, leaning against the wall of the rink, smiling at her. "Great day for skating, isn't it?" he said, looking rather nervous.

Casey nodded at him, half-smiling at Marti. "Yeah, it was the perfect day for it," she replied, pulling one of her skates off and laying it on the bench as she wiggled her toes in relief from the tight confines.

"Was it your daughter's first time out?" he wondered, nodding toward Marti.

Casey's hands stilled on her laces for a minute. The need to correct him was incredibly strong, as if it was wrong to not say she was George's, but then she thought she might have to explain and that would was far too fresh. She was also mildly insulted. She was only eighteen and Marti was six, so either she looked older or she was incredibly young when she got pregnant. "She's not my daughter," she finally said in a quiet voice. "She's..." She didn't even know how to explain it anymore. "I'm taking care of her while her brother handles some business."

"Oh," he said, sheepishly, his face blushing on top of the red the cold air had caused. "Sorry... You two just looked so close out there," he explained, pointing back at the rink. "I have a son of my own. He's not much younger than she is."

Casey nodded, not sure how to reply. "Quite the handful, huh," she finally replied, fiddling with the laces of her other skate as she watched Marti chat with the old man working the skate rental shop.

"Yeah," the man near her said with a short laugh. "Definitely. But worth it." He nodded like only a father could, with automatic adoration for his child. Casey wondered if Derek would ever have that expression when somebody talked to him about Marti in the future. Or if maybe he'd have his own kids, later on in life, find a women who was willing to help raise his younger sister and start a life with him.

Casey watched as Marti turned to make her way back over, waving at her as if she hadn't already seen her coming. "Yeah, really worth it."

"So," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm guessing you and the brother are..."

Casey turned to him rather surprised, having not realized the man was actually trying to flirt or create a connection. Her eyes were large and she immediately tried to force her expression back a step, so that she didn't appear to be a deer in the head lights. It wasn't that he was awful looking, he was actually quite handsome. Soft green eyes, pale blonde hair closely cut, strong jaw, tall, wide shoulders. He was friendly too, with a deep voice and a face that screamed 'nice'. But she didn't feel anything near a spark of attraction or interest. "Uh..." she frowned, not sure how to reply. "I guess you could say it's complicated," she finally told him.

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "All the great ones are," he finally said. "Well, it was nice to meet you..."

"Casey," she supplied.

"David," he replied, holding his hand out for her to shake. "Good luck with the brother. Some of the best things in life come out of the complications. It was my son, for me." He smiled at her before turning and skating off, giving a small wave back.

Casey watched him go momentarily, waving back faintly before she turned her attention to Marti. "Hey," she greeted the six year old cheerfully, "You ready for the museum?"

"Can we go to the Jellyfish Junction first?" she asked, nodding.

Casey stood up, slipping her feet into her shoes and reaching out to take Marti's hand. "Of course," she told her as they walked up to return the skates.

"Can we play with the puppets?"

"Sure," Casey agreed.

"And then we'll look at the dinosaurs, 'kay?" she told her, looking up as they stopped near the street where taxis lined the curb.

"We'll look at everything you want," Casey assured, walking them toward one of the taxis and helping her into the back, wrapping an arm around her and buckling them in. She told the driver the destination and then sat back as he took them toward the museum, listening to Marti tell her all about how much fun they'd have and how much she loved certain exhibits. She checked her watch to find they had a few hours and could certainly use them up in the museum easily. After paying the taxi driver, she hurried to keep up with Marti as she excitedly ran them towards the museum, shrieking about how much fun they were going to have.

Hours later, Casey hailed down a cab with her feet sore and a mild headache. While it had been great spending a few hours with Marti learning all about underwater sea creatures, dinosaurs, and various other exhibits they had, there was a class going around too and so many excited children was loud and frustrating. Outside of the noise level though, she really enjoyed spending time with Marti. The girl had so much imagination, it was hard not to fall victim to her charm. They built a sandcastle and read a book about squids. Marti acted as though she knew all bout dinosaurs and enjoyed telling Casey every bit of knowledge she had learned while she examined the exhibit. For awhile she even interacted with some of the other kids while Casey took a breather leaning against a wall, where she struck up a conversation with one of the employees. Finally the time came to go though and while Marti was sad to leave, she took Casey's hand and followed her out.

The cab drive home was making Casey nervous. She hadn't been inside the house since her breakdown and she felt rather overwhelmed by returning. She hoped that Sam and Derek had cleaned up the whole place, but she wasn't sure if they had enough time to get it all. Soon they'd have to start packing and move everything out. It would all start after the wake, the packing and the storage. Derek wouldn't be able to take anything big and Casey's apartment was only so large. They'd end up having to sell a lot of it and Casey wasn't sure she could handle that so soon after. There was so much in the house, not just in possessions but in memories. Ghosts of their former selves lingering in every crevice, whispers of fighting still echoing, strings of conversations long past and of laughter ringing still in the air. She hugged herself in the back of the cab and felt Marti snuggle close to her, something she was still getting accustomed to.

When they pulled up, she sat in the car for a moment, gathering herself before finally paying and climbing out. Emily seemed to know she was there, as she exited the house and walked over to her, an expression that Casey had dearly dreaded on her face. Derek must have told her. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for pity. Marti squeezed her hand, looking up at her. "My feet hurt, Casey," she told her, sighing. Smiling gently, Casey leaned down and picked her up, resting her on her hip as they crossed the grass. Marti hugged her around her neck, resting her head on Casey's shoulder. In that moment, Casey was fairly sure that nobody could have asked her to let go of Marti.

oOo

Derek had spent the majority of the morning in silence. His brow was aching from being furrowed for nearly two hours straight. Sam wasn't pushing him into talking, simply helping him right the cabinets, couches, and heavy furniture. He swept up glass, rearranged pictures that had been thrown around and just generally cleaned up. Emily had wandered over fairly early to help out, giving Derek a short hug and a sympathetic smile before she too started to help. They didn't know why the house was in shambles and probably assumed it was him, but he didn't really care if they did. The house was still a wreck and a bad one. The bedrooms were hardly touched, which he assumed was because Casey probably didn't want to ruin the feel of them. But the living room was a wreck he wasn't sure was entirely repairable. In the end, most of the pictures lining the room didn't have glass covers any longer, but they were still out. The books were no longer in alphabetical order, but he wasn't about to waste his time doing that. And some of the furniture had blankets covering tears in them. They had to throw out an end table, it being smashed to bits and pieces and the coffee table was still being questioned for the chopping block, being quite wobbly and rather unstable. It seemed to be holding though, as long as nobody put their feet on it.

He'd never cleaned so much in his life. His back literally ached from so much bending over. He hadn't been moving much lately so discomfort set in quickly. It was around eleven when they'd finally got it to something recognizable and took a break to have something to eat. He knew Casey would be back around noon for them to visit the funeral home to pick out the caskets, which settled funny in his stomach. Both Sam and Emily agreed to watch over Marti for them, knowing they didn't want to bring the young girl along for the trip. It would be too hard, there would be far too many questions they hadn't yet figured out answers for, and Derek just wasn't sure he could handle seeing her confused and inquisitive face when he could barely stomach the task at hand.

Sam and Emily were exchanging a conversation through facial expressions that Derek pretended to ignore. They'd been tossing him worried looks all morning, likely having a lot of questions, but he hadn't yet explained anything. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to tell them, but he knew he couldn't just _not_ explain what was going to happen. He could see they were working up to trying to ask him something, and waited for them to finally choke out a question. His soup was getting cold as he stirred it listlessly, hoping Casey had eaten something for breakfast. He wondered if Fiona had gotten through to her, if she was any kind of help. He knew Casey wasn't exactly the most stable person right now, but he trusted that she wasn't going to do anything destructive for now. Besides, she had Marti with her, which meant she'd be on her best behavior. If anything, she'd act more cheerful. He hoped his little sister could bring back some of the more stable Casey. He didn't like dark Casey, didn't like fearing she wouldn't wake up when he wasn't there.

"So Derek..." Emily began, glancing at Sam and then at him. "How has Casey been through all this? She hasn't called me back and as far as I know, you're the only person she's seeing right now--"

"Not good," he interrupted before she could begin babbling, which he could see was the course by her expression. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and her brows high and then looked at Sam as if he could figure out how to ask what might've happened. Derek wasn't one to talk directly about feelings or how other people were dealing with them. He generally avoided them, so they were probably surprised it took so little goading. But if he was going to be gone soon, somebody had to take care of her, despite the fact that she'd likely say she didn't need a guardian. Standing up, the scratch of the chair legs on the floor sounded loud in the silence of the dining room. He cleared his throat as he walked his dish over to the sink and poured out the remains of his cool soup. Dropping the dish inside, he leaned against the counter for a moment, staring out the window with a distant expression.

"How bad is it?" Sam finally asked, his voice worried and rather accepting of the fact that it wasn't getting easier quickly.

Derek licked his lips, his eyes falling. "She overdosed on some pills," he finally said, letting out a long breath and wincing when he heard Emily gasp. "Sleeping pills, she just couldn't sleep," he muttered. "She didn't mean to do it at first. She was tired, the pills didn't seem to be working, so she kept taking more. And before she knew it they were all gone," he explained, his voice toneless. "Marti and I found her. She kept shaking her, asking her to wake up and play. But she just laid there, not responding and I thought..." His hands tightened around the edge of the counter painfully. He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to force the tears of remembrance back but only forcing them out. "I thought she left me," he finished, his voice quaking.

He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment. "There was a glass of water on the table by her bed, I tossed it on her and she woke up. But she was... she was confused, maybe a little delusional. She thought I was my dad, she kept telling me she wanted to talk to Edwin, that he promised to play Babe Raider with her..." He lifted his arm to wipe at his face, continuing to keep his attention on the outside of the window, not ready to face them. "I took her to the bathroom, trying to tell her she had to throw up, but she didn't want to. She just... she just wanted to sleep." His voice cracked at the end and he hated himself for sounding weak. "She just couldn't do it anymore. She said she was alone, that she couldn't handle it. That Marti and I had each other and she had no one, and I tried to tell her that she had me, but she just..."

He hugged himself, his arms wrapping tightly around him, squeezing as if to push him forward and strangle the emotion. "You know in the hospital, she was gonna tell me she loved me, but before she could I took it back," he admitted, finally turning to them. Emily was crying, her hands covering her mouth as she stared up at him sadly. Sam was looking down at the table top, ignoring the tears that silently broke down his face. "I told her I didn't love her," he said, his voice sounding angry. "And she ran. She ran and she arranged everything so that I wouldn't have to deal with it and then she went and knocked back a bottle of sleeping pills," he said through clenched teeth. "She just kept telling me to let her sleep but I couldn't. I... I just couldn't." He shook his head, letting his chin fall, tears spilling over to fall to the floor. "I had to force my hand into her mouth to get her to throw them up," he told them, clenching his jaw. "And all there was was pills. She wasn't eating." He squeezed himself, rocking on his feet letting out a shaky breath. "And then I just held her as she sobbed, until she fell back asleep." He turned away again, rubbing at his face with the back of his arm.

"Derek..." Sam said, his voice hoarse.

"I'm leaving," Derek said quietly. "In a few days. Me and Marti are leaving town. I can't let Abby have her and there's no way the courts will let me have her. Casey wants me to try for custody. Thinks I have a pretty good chance since Marti would want to stay with me and we aren't sure what dad decided." He shook his head. "She's staying. She'll go back to school, graduate with honors, and eventually life will return to some semblance of normal." His voice was final, as if telling them they weren't allowed to disagree with the fact that Casey wasn't leaving with them. "It's for the better."

Emily suddenly looked angry, wiping at her tears furiously and glaring at him. "After all of this, you're not even going to--"

Derek turned back around, staring at her with a scowl. "None of this was how it was supposed to be. I figured in a few years we'd get our shit together and finally just _be together_, but that isn't how it happened. There can't be an us. She needs to stay here and I can't risk my mother taking Marti, she'll ruin her." He shook his head. "I love Casey, I will always love her, but I can't sacrifice Marti for her. She wouldn't want me to."

"Why can't you give the adoption a chance. Maybe George did leave Marti in your custody or maybe the courts will agree that you're better for her than Abby," she suggested, lifting a hand.

"I highly doubt they're about to give an eighteen year old waiter a six year old child," he replied scathingly.

"You could _try_," Emily replied, her voice sharp. "This is Marti and Casey, Derek!"

"I know that," he half-shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've wanted Casey for three years, you think this is easy for me?"

"Nothing is every easy when it comes to you two, but I never thought you'd just give up," Emily shouted back, rising from her chair. "Damnit, Derek! What are you gonna do, huh? Are you and Marti gonna run for the next twelve years? Hide away, pretending to be someone who didn't kidnap their little sister? You're gonna give up everything you have here? Leave all of us behind? Don't you think Marti will have questions? Don't you think it'll break her heart to leave Casey behind?" she asked, her voice slowly losing its anger to become sad. "You can run all you want, but it won't change anything. You'll always be worried that Marti will be taken from you. You'll always hate yourself for leaving Casey. And you'll never forgive yourself for walking away from your best friends." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "You're making the biggest mistake of your life," she finished before leaving the room.

A moment later, Derek heard the door open and Emily calling out Casey's name. He sighed, slumping against the cupboard beside him. He glanced at Sam, who was still and quiet. "You knew I would do this," he said quietly. Sam nodded slowly. "You gonna yell at me too?" Sam shook his head. "D'you think I'm making a mistake?" Sam shrugged, staring at the tabletop. Derek swallowed thickly, biting his lip. "I _know_ I'm making a mistake." Sam looked up at him, his brow furrowed. Derek shrugged, "I'll probably get caught, lose Marti, and get my ass thrown in jail. But if I tried for adoption, I know for a fact that the judge would rule in favor of Abby." He shook his head. "Running is our only chance."

"When they ask me where you went, I won't tell them. After awhile, when they keep pressuring, I'll tell them you mentioned Alaska. All that ice, great for hockey." He shrugged, his jaw tightening.

"Alaska?" Derek said, lifting a brow, frowning.

"You'll probably be on a sandy beach somewhere while they're searching through ice bergs for you," Sam said, a faint smile on his face.

Derek chuckled lightly, nodding. "Knew there was a reason you were my best friend."

"Because I put up with you," Sam replied with a 'duh' expression.

Rolling his eyes, Derek snorted. "I'm the most likable guy in the city," he replied, smirking.

"I see you've found your arrogance," Sam replied, slowly smiling.

Derek shrugged, half-smiling. "Who would I be without it?" His brow furrowed, "Huh... Probably you."

Sam scoffed, frowning. "I'm much better looking."

"Hah!" Derek said, shaking his head and moving from the kitchen to walk back over to his seat. His face still felt rather stiff from his earlier crying. He could hear Emily talking to Casey in the other room and knew that he had to get going.

Suddenly the kitchen door opened and Marti came running in, looking excited. "Guess what, Smerek?" she asked him, running over to climb into his lap.

"What?" he asked, finding his chest swell at seeing that spark back in Marti's eyes.

"Casey took me ice skating and she taught me how to do it and we went really fast and then she twirled me and then we danced around and she sang for awhile and then she let me skate all on my own and I almost fell but then didn't but then I did fall and she caught me and then we skated all around again and we went super fast," Marti told him all in one huge rush. She took a gulp of air and continued on, "And then she took me to the kids museum and we went to the Jellyfish Junction and made a castle and she read to me and then I saw the dinosaurs and there were other kids there and Casey got a headache but I didn't 'cause they were loud like me and they I played with them and then Casey and I walked around some more and we spent two whole hours there and then Casey said we had to go because she had to do something with you," she told him, nodding, her eyes wide as she inhaled deeply.

"Wow," Derek said, his brows high as he listened to her long explanation. "So you had fun?"

"Uh huh, lots," she replied, smiling. "Casey is the coolest!"

Derek feigned hurt, "Cooler than me?"

"No, 'cause she can't make your pancakes," she told him, looking at him as if he were completely foolish in even asking.

"Oh is that all I'm good for?" he asked, tickling her sides and enjoying her giggling. He felt more lighthearted for some reason. Perhaps it was just seeing that Marti wasn't so broken any longer that he could feel even a little bit of happiness.

Casey entered the dining room then, glancing at Sam and frowning at Derek before she looked over at Emily who was following close behind. "All I'm saying is maybe it would be nice for me to stay with you for a little while," he heard Emily finish.

"I might be staying with my aunt for a few days," Casey told her, shaking her head.

"That's not what you told Fiona," Marti said, turning around in Derek's lap to look up at her. "You said that you were just gonna go back to work and school and get back to baking," she reminded, looking up at her confused.

Casey tried to hide her smile behind a frown. "Basics, Marti, not baking." She shook her head, "And I thought your attention was on your drawing."

Marti shook her head, "I'm a moldy-tasker," she told her, nodding.

Casey laughed and Derek couldn't help but smile, enjoying the sound that seemed so non-existent as of late. "_Multi_-tasker," she corrected. Marti simply shrugged, digging around in her pockets for something. Casey crossed to stand next to him while Marti hopped down to look through her pockets, a frown set on her face. Derek reached out, his hand wrapping loosely around her forearm, trailing his fingers slowly down the inside. He felt her shiver against him, her hip against the back of the chair. "We'll go soon," she told him, knowing what he was asking. He nodded up at her, his thumb brushing against the pulse point on her wrist before his fingers trailed over her palm. As his hand fell from hers, it slipped through the back of her legs, curling around her thigh, thumb brushing against the rough texture of her jeans. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it, just needing to touch her. She moved her arm so it was behind him, her hand resting against the back of his neck, fingers slipping into his hair.

Marti suddenly cried out triumphantly and Derek turned to see that she had found what she was looking for. She unfurled a piece of paper and walked over to stand next to Casey, holding it up to her. "I made it for you," Marti told her.

Casey reached out with her free hand, angling it up to see. Derek turned in his chair, the side of his face pressed against her stomach as she lowered the picture for him to see too. "Are these us?" she asked faintly, looking down at Marti.

There were three people portrayed, two taller than the third, though not my much. They were mostly stick figures, with skirts to show who were girls and pants to show who wasn't. Derek was wearing all green and appeared to have _a lot_ of brown hair on his head. Also, for some reason, he had a hockey stick in his hand, even though they were standing on a grassy field of some sort. Casey stood near him, her hair reaching to almost her feet, and a big smile on her face as she held what looked like a book in her hand. But because it was Marti, the book blocked out Casey's hand, as if showing the cover. Between them stood Marti, holding on to each of their hands. There was also a ball of brown near their feet that he was pretty sure she meant to be a dog, judging by the tail-like shape coming off one side of it. In the background, there was a purple house with smoke coming out of a chimney and lot of windows of all different sizes. "So where are we in this, Smarti?" he wondered.

"Home," she told him, smiling. "That's where me, you, and Casey live together. And that's our dog!" she told him excitedly, pointing at the brown mass he'd correctly identified. "I haven't named him yet though."

Derek's eyes widened as he stared at his little sister, who looked so happy with her picture of what she thought was going to happen. He felt Casey's warm hand still pressed against his neck, her fingers stilling in his hair. He'd only now noticed that she had been lazily skimming her nails up and down over his skin. Sighing, Derek didn't know what to say, not wanting to make Marti feel bad. He turned his head, pressing his face against Casey's stomach, burying his expression.

"Why don't you put it on the fridge for now," Casey suggested, her voice rather distant and shaky. She turned slightly and Derek's hands rose, cradling her hips as he continued to press his face against her flat abdomen. Marti called out to them that she was going to go find her princess tiara so that her and Emily could play while Casey and Derek went out. He could faintly hear Emily offer to help her look and then Sam saying he was going to give them a hand too and before he knew it, he was alone in the dining room with Casey.

His nose nuzzled against her belly button and his hands rose up her back, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her closer. Her hands ran through his hair and down his neck soothingly, nails lightly grazing his skin, making him shiver. She rubbed his shoulders, which he now realized were tensed. Her hands felt warm and comforting against his back and he found himself relaxing into her even more. His hands slipped down her back again, resting just above the top of her jeans. He was worried how much Marti was going to hurt after all of this, after she realized that he'd taken her away from Casey and their imaginary house and dog. And he was afraid he'd never feel Casey so close to him again, that he'd never get to hold her like he was. He was surprised she was letting him do it in the first place, not that he was complaining.

"We should go to the funeral home," she finally said, her voice soft.

He nodded against her stomach and she waited for him to pull back. His hands moved around to her hips, skimming beneath her shirt to feel her skin and he slowly brought his face back away from her stomach and looked up at her in gratitude. She smiled down at him softly, her hand reaching out to brush against his face. "She'll be fine. She'll understand one day," she told him.

He nodded, though he wasn't quite certain that Marti would ever understand or that she'd forgive him. If he were in her place, he'd never accept that he'd taken him out of Casey's life. The only person who would ever understand, that would care for her like only Casey could, that knew how to make her jelly sandwiches. He still hated himself for hurting her and knew that Marti would never get over it. Not even Smerek could hurt her like that and walk away from it unscathed. She had grown close to Casey, wanted to live with her and Derek in a purple house with their nameless dog and be a family. And she deserved that. They were right. He was making the biggest mistake of his life. Yet still he rose from his chair, slipped his hand into Casey's and tugged her toward the door so they could go out and pick caskets. One more task done, one more step closer to his escape, one less moment to touch Casey. It would all be over soon and he'd never forgive himself for it.

oTBCo

**A/N** _Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I'm working on the next chapter now, so there shouldn't be a super long wait. I'm really very sorry it took SOOO long, but I haven't given up on this story. You might've noticed the title change, I just felt that "**For Marti**," would fit it better long term. Originally, it was supposed to become less dark and more humorous, but the plot wasn't headed that way. In any case, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, I'll update again soon! Again, SORRY! Be sure to review, I'd like to know what you think!_

o**BDT**o


	17. o17o

_**For Marti**_

o17o

Derek leaned back in his seat, adjusting his belt as it bit into his shoulder. He was following Casey's direction to Memorial Funeral Home, which she had called in for from her cell phone since they realized they had no idea where they were going. They drove in near silence, except for the whir of the heater and the sloshing of wheels from the cars around them. Casey sat looking out the window thoughtfully while Derek put all of his attention on getting through the lunch hour traffic. He stole a few glances at her as she sat with her hand over her stomach and her expression grim. He wasn't sure if she was hungry or queasy, in fact he wasn't sure if _he_ was still hungry or anxious. Clearing his throat, he finally asked what had been bugging him all morning, "Did you eat?" He remembered her excuses from before, when she used to tell him she'd already eaten or that she just wasn't hungry. Seeing nothing but pills in the toilet was a reminder that he hadn't been watching her like he should have, just assuming that she would take care of herself. He didn't want her falling into that kind of self-destruction, it wasn't Casey. He turned his head to her, eyes darting back and forth to the road, gauging her reaction.

Casey looked over at him, her expression rather distant still. He was expecting annoyance, maybe even a scowl or an irritated scoff, but she simply nodded her head, her eyes falling to her hand over her stomach. "I shared breakfast with Marti. Nothing big. She got the bacon, I had the sausage, and we had two French toast sticks each," she told him with a faint smile. She shrugged one shoulder, "Haven't had lunch yet, but I didn't think my stomach would hold it down anyway. Not with what we're going to do," she admitted, sighing shakily.

Derek nodded, reaching out with one hand to take hers, squeezing it lightly. He felt it quiver in his grasp and held on a little tighter. "I didn't have lunch either," he told her, shaking his head and turning off of Clarke road and onto Fanshawe Park road. "We should though, after," he added, looking over at her.

She nodded, turning her face back to look out the window, though he felt her thumb brush against his hand. They drove awhile longer in silence, Derek's eyes wandering over to her as she leaned her head back on the seat and watched the scenery fly past. He saw the funeral home up ahead and turned into the fairly empty parking lot.

After climbing out of the car, Derek waited for her to come around to meet him. She looked shaky, her face pale and her teeth biting down hard on her lip. He took her hand in his and tugged her along towards the building, feeling his chest tighten the closer they got. As they walked through the door, they were greeted by a woman around Nora's age with sharp glasses and her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She was dressed in a very professional suit and her hand was out to shake theirs immediately. "You must be Mr. Venturi," she said, nodding to him. Derek remembered that Casey hadn't planned on being there and glanced at her briefly before giving the woman a jerky nod. "I'm Linda, most of the arrangements have been made. That is, if you've decided that everything met your standards."

Derek cleared his throat, "Could we go over it, just to be sure?"

"Of course," Linda agreed, nodding. "I realize that this is a very hard time for you and I'm here to answer any questions you may have concerning anything with the service." She led them down a hallway, turning around to look at them as she spoke. "Here at Memorial, we are equipped for every need. All faiths and cultures are accepted and we have payment options open to suit any budget." She clasped her hands together, walking slower. "We have seating space up to 200 people, a lounge area for a more private and intimate gathering, and visitation rooms. We also have a reception area with kitchen facilities and have a catering service directly linked to us." She spoke softly to them, "Now I understand that today you're more specifically here to pick out a burial casket for... four, was it?" she asked, her brow lifting in question.

Derek nodded, feeling rather overwhelmed by it all. He squeezed Casey's hand, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Uh, two adults and two teenagers," he told her, not sure if it would matter what age they were. Edwin was just as tall as George, though Lizzie was rather short for her age. He felt bile rise up in his throat and swallowed it, his expression twisting.

Linda nodded slowly, before directing them to a room. "We have all sizes, designs, and price ranges. If you'd like to be left alone while you browse, I completely understand. Or if you'd like to discuss each of them, then I'll stay," she offered in a soft tone.

Derek and Casey entered a room equipped with various showcases of caskets and some photos of those not shown. He felt his heartbeat speed up and his eyes cloud over for a moment. He stood still for a moment, his eyes looking around quickly. He was momentarily reminded of the day they had to confirm the bodies and how taxing it was. His dad and brother were going to be in one of those boxes, it was beyond disturbing. His foot backed up and he felt the familiar desire to just run. Get away as fast as possible, ignore what needed to be done and just pretend. Casey stepped in front of him, her face filling his vision. Her hand lifted, palms cupping his face, eyes directly meeting his, strongly. For that moment, she was the take-charge Casey that he missed. "Hold on to me," she told him. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, reaching out to slip his arm around her waist, anchoring him.

Linda stepped forward, bringing them around to each, stopping in front of one that was a deep shade of black, with white satin inside and had "Father" embroidered on the inside. Derek's hand reached out, wrapping around side of the casket, his hand touching soft satin lining and the thick pillow at the top. He didn't think he'd ever have to be standing here, picking out a box for his dad to forever rest in. Would he be comfortable? Would he hate the colour? Would he even care? He'd probably prefer a really lumpy couch, but he guessed they didn't bury people on those. They'd glitz him up to, make him wear a suit and coif his hair. He'd look like he did when he was going to court, except he'd be fast asleep, never to wake up again. Derek's eyes burned and his throat closed up. He stared at the one word written in the top half. "Father." More specifically it could say a young father, a man who was only beginning his life, a man who left two children behind and took one with him. Derek found anger swell in his chest, but he had no idea who or what it was toward. He turned to look back at Casey whose eyes were swimming, she nodded at him. One down, three to go. He took a deep breath, following Linda to the next as she wrote down the specifics for the first they'd picked out.

They roamed around the room awhile longer, looking at numerous caskets that all felt too unlike any of the people they were burying. He had no idea what would fit Nora though. He didn't know what colours she liked or if it even mattered. He knew her as a step-mother, the only woman who ever felt like a motherly figure that actually loved him. The only woman who really accepted all his faults and instead of wanting to change him, loved him for them. She was nothing like Abby. She was loving and there for him when he needed. He could've done without the woman's rights speeches and the stern voice telling him not to be so lazy, but he'd listen to it every day if she were alive still. There wasn't a whole lot of caskets that really said "Nora" to him. Until they found the one that was so much like George's but had it's own style. A copper and white casket that had "Mother," written in a beautiful scrawl inside. Dark satin filled the inside and Casey ran her fingers over it before she leaned her head on Derek's shoulder, her hand reaching out to grab the front of his shirt, balling it up in her fist. He wondered if she'd be cramped, such a tight spot filled with nothing but a pillow and satin lining. It'd be cold too, if she could feel it. Sighing, he nodded again to Linda, who marked it down and brought them farther along.

There were so many that just wouldn't fit. The colours, the designs, the gaudy looking outsides. Some felt too overdone, others felt too nondescript. It wasn't as if they were going to have a casket that screamed "Edwin" or "Lizzie", but they kept looking, trying to find something that felt right enough. They finally decided on a deep brown casket with three tea roses embroidered into the top panel, for Lizzie. And Derek found himself clenching his jaw, telling Linda how tall Lizzie was with his hand held up near his shoulder. His first thought was that she'd want her soccer ball with her and he wondered if they could fit that in the casket of if it'd have to be buried on top. Biting his lip, he held tighter to Casey, whose legs had faltered slightly. She was shaking badly, he could feel it against his side. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, hands clutching at his far side, and face buried up near his shoulder. He could feel her tears slipping through his shirt and wetting his skin. She was quiet though, wasn't making any noise at all.

They moved on, looking through brochures and pictures to find a clean silver casket with steel trimmings for Edwin. Red velvet filled the inside, with a thick pillow at the top. He wondered what Ed would say about the velvet. It felt retro, not exactly Edwin, but then Satin wasn't him either. They didn't really have anything that fit a teenage boy though. The satins, silks, and velvets were supposed to signify their comfort, that they'd been put in with the finest. All Derek could think was that Edwin would probably rather be wrapped in his favorite comforter wearing just his regular pajamas. But the service would call for a suit and they'd make Edwin look nothing like the little brother Derek knew. There was nothing to do but accept it. It wasn't as if he could rally against a service trying to make the final goodbye as easy as possible. And he supposed they would be comfortable, as comfortable as they could six feet under. Derek rose his arm so it stood near his ear to show Linda Edwin's height and stared at the casket awhile, his eyes burning. His little brother was going to be stuck inside the box before him by tomorrow. He hated caskets, he hated kids who drove drunk, he hated that he was standing in a funeral home, he hated that the woman who was helping them would likely get a huge commission from selling so much that day.

Linda led them out of the room, promising that the caskets would be ready by the next morning and that they would set everything up with the hospital. All they needed were the clothes brought over for each family member and they'd take care of the rest. Derek gave her a faint nod, his hand running up and down Casey's back as she leaned into him, her arm wrapped tight around his back. Linda toured them around everywhere, showing them the rooms that would be used. Casey explained that the wake would be held at the house and they only needed the main hall for everybody to join in. Linda then showed them the cars that would able to take them to the service and wondered which cemetery they'd set everything up with. Casey assured her that Forest Lawn Memorial Gardens knew they would be there tomorrow, so Linda brought them over to pick out headstones. Having been put through enough, Casey agreed that they would just get four similar plaques in a dark green colour. Each would simply state a line of endearment, their names, and lastly their date of birth and death. Everything else seemed overdone and too religious for them.

After talking to Linda about flowers and seating, Casey and Derek were finally on their way out. The funeral was set for ten am the next morning and Casey assured that the clothes would be sent over within the next few hours. She followed him out, her hand reaching out to grab the top of his jeans and pull him back a few steps. He felt the tips of her fingers skim the base of his back and shivered. She slid up next to him, her body pressing into his side, hand moving along his back, still beneath the waist of his jeans. "You should wear your coat," she told him, glancing up at him briefly before looking back toward the car. "It's too cold to be walking around in only your shirt."

"It has long sleeves," he told her, shrugging one shoulder.

She scoffed, frowning at him.

He half-smiled at her, comforted that she wasn't letting the silence envelop them. He wrapped his arm around her back as they walked toward the car. He checked his watch and looked over at her, "Dinner?"

She nodded against his shoulder, before lifting her hand and pointing out the Kelsey's down the street. Climbing into the car, they directed it over and parked in a spot just becoming open. They had to wait for someone to seat them, so they stood at the front area, looking around the rather dark and antiquey looking restaurant. Derek moved behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. He suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. Part of him told him he was being too intimate with her, that she was going to wonder why if he didn't care, he was being so loving, but he ignored it in favor of touching her. His eyes fell closed as he sighed lightly, his nose nuzzling her neck slightly as he listened to her quietly hum to the faint music filtering into the front area. His thumbs brushed gently against her stomach as he relaxed against her familiar form. He was drifting away, being lulled into sleep standing up, and surely would have fallen into slumber if the waitress hadn't appeared then, calling out a greeting in a cheery voice. Derek startled, his arms tightening around Casey's waist briefly and his head turning up, chin still resting on her shoulder as he looked around with cloudy eyes. He could faintly hear the waitress saying something about him looking adorable and buried his face against his Casey's shoulder again, trying to wake himself up.

"Is a booth okay?" the waitress wondered, looking back at them as she carried two menus down a walkway.

"Sure," Casey replied, tugging him along behind her as she began walking. His feet stumbled momentarily, but he shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times, clearing his mind and telling his feet to move. They stopped at the booth and Derek sat down across from her, rubbing at his face with his hand.

"Drinks?" the waitress asked.

Derek looked over at her, "I'll have a Pepsi, no ice." He glanced at Casey, who was lifting a brow at him and he let out a small laugh. "Please," he added, rolling his eyes at her.

Casey nodded, pleased. "A Shirley Temple, please."

"Sure!" she exclaimed. Derek thought she was rather annoyingly bouncy, like she was on the tip of her toes, just waiting to be noticed. "I'll be back in just a minute," she told them, smiling widely.

"I hate cheerful people," Casey told him, frowning at the woman walking away.

"You used to be a cheerful person," he reminded, stretching his back and running a hand through his hair.

"_Used _to be," she reiterated, nodding. "And now I realize I must've been entirely annoying."

"Not always," he allowed, half-smirking at her. She rolled her eyes at him, but he could tell she was happy that they weren't letting the earlier events swallow them entirely. He found himself yawning, his eyes falling closed before he rested his chin on his hands on top of the table. "I wanna go home, go to sleep," he muttered.

"You haven't been home in awhile," she reminded quietly. Her fingers were suddenly threaded in his hair, nails grazing his skin, lulling him.

"Yeah... I actually thought of your apartment when I said it," he admitted with a short chuckle. Her hands stilled for a moment but then continued soothing him. "Ya keep doing that I won't even make it to the drinks," he said quietly, his voice laced with comfort. He could tell she was smiling without looking up. It felt good not to fight, to just be around each other. The small touches were becoming something of a habit for him, but he liked that she wasn't holding back when she wanted to touch him. He couldn't help his mind from wandering to the night before, the way she tugged at his hair, her nails grazing his skin all over. Her mouth pressed against his neck, his chest, his lips. He didn't think he'd feel her so close again and yet here she was, half torturing him, half comforting him. The waitress returned, interrupting with an excited, "Here you go!" as she placed the drinks down in front of them. "I'll be back in a little while to take your orders!" Casey thanked her and Derek mumbled his appreciation before taking a long gulp from his drink.

"So you and Marti had fun today?" he asked her, licking the leftover moisture of the pop from his mouth. It burned a little on its way down his throat, but he found he was incredibly thirsty.

Casey nodded, smiling down into her drink. "A lot of fun," she told him. "You should've seen her on the ice, she was a little pro. Takes after her brother, I guess." She shrugged, "She really liked it though. She was laughing and squealing, and she kept wanting to go faster. It was... It was great to see her so enthusiastic. She has a lot of... _something_." Her brow furrowed in thought, but she nodded as if it was the only word to explain Marti.

"Yeah," Derek agreed, nodding. "_Something_."

"You're gonna have your hand full with her," Casey told him, smiling lightly. It was fond and yet sad, making him swallow tightly.

"Sometimes I wonder if I can even do it. I mean... even if we weren't leaving and I got custody, I wonder..." He shook his head, shrugging one shoulder and pulling out the menu to cover up his feelings of inadequacy.

Casey reached out, her hand wrapping around his and forcing him to look at her. "You'll be a great father figure to her, Derek. Abby doesn't know her like you do, nobody else could. I don't care what anybody says, I think you'd be a great dad." She smiled faintly. "There's nobody who loves her like you do."

Derek stared at her. "Except you," he admitted, shaking his head. Casey's eyes fell from his and she too reached for a menu, brushing a strand of hair off her face. "I'm sorry, Casey. For taking her--"

"Taking _care_ of her," Casey interrupted him, shaking her head. "There's nothing to apologize for. I don't think you should go, but I understand why you are, Derek." She sighed, lifting her eyes to his. "I'm gonna miss her. I'll miss hearing her laugh or having her shake me awake, or meow randomly. I'll even miss her making potions with my makeup. But I'll be happy enough knowing that she's with you. That at least Abby isn't taking away that _something_ that she has." Her eyes shone with tears, but she smiled anyway. "That's enough for me." A tear escaped, but she brushed it away quickly. "Now..." She turned her gaze back down to the menu, "I'm thinking of having a salad. What about you?"

He stared at her a moment, his throat tight and his jaw shaking. "Ribs," he finally said, knowing that it was his cue not to talk about the sadness of their situation anymore.

The waitress returned and they put their orders in, before turning back to each other to discuss things outside of what had happened. Derek told her how hockey had been going, how he was slowly making his way up in the ranks to become one of the more important players and Casey admitted that she had gone to all of his games. Derek was surprised, he thought she tried to ignore his existence after she moved away. He asked her what her favorite was and she admitted that it was probably the third game he was in, because he got his first goal and before that, she hadn't much cared because she didn't know anybody else but Sam on the team. So that was when it started becoming more interesting, she now had somebody to actually cheer on. Derek remembered his first goal on his college team and couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest, knowing that he wouldn't be able to play with them any longer. That hockey was going to have to take a backseat to everything else, something that had never happened before in his life. It had always been about hockey and business school. Getting that career and making a name for himself.

It was unusual to think of a future that he hadn't already planned. One with raising his sister, taking her to school, helping her with homework, buying her clothes and school supplies, meeting and intimidating her first boyfriend, going to her graduation, seeing her off to college, letting her live her own life. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic. His whole life was going to become Marti and he really wasn't sure he could handle that. He was eighteen. He had a set future that was completely turned over. It was just him now. There was no dad to pick her up when he wanted to resume school or go out and meet friends. He might have to get a babysitter every once in awhile. One he'd have to pay! He took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed again. He knew he was doing the right thing by raising her, but he couldn't help but be upset that his whole future was completely changed.

He forced himself not to think about it and turned his attention back to Casey, who was sipping her Shirley Temple and listening to the faint music playing. He asked her how her schooling was going and wasn't surprised to find out that she had been doing really well in all of her classes. While she talked about her creative writing class, he took one of her hands and turned it over on the table top, tracing the lines that ran over her palm. He remembered all those times in the past that a girl who liked him faked being a palm reader and told him his loveline was strong or something just as cheesy. He found the line on her hand that all the other girls had pointed out on his, running his finger over it. His hand slowly rose up her hand, fingers grazing her wrist and trailing up her forearm. He watched, a small smile on his mouth, as her fingers curled up and she lost her place in her sentence. He brought his hand slowly back down, running the pad of his thumb over her palm. He looked up at her, finding her eyes were questioning him, while her teeth gnawed at her lower lip. Before she could query why he was being so intimate, the waitress returned with their meals and set them down in front of them.

Derek filled his mouth with a few fries as he picked up his knife to cut up his ribs. Casey used her knife and fork to cut up the slices of chicken on top of her salad, mixing them into her salad. The waitress took Derek's empty Pepsi glass and was back a moment later with a fresh one. She smiled at them widely before walking off to serve somebody else. Casey frowned at her back once more, digging into her salad. "Ya think Sam is playing princess, too?" Casey asked him, her mouth quirking as she brought her drink up to her mouth.

Derek snorted, shrugging one shoulder. "Probably. She can be very convincing," he told her, lifting a brow and waving his fork at her.

"Yeah, I remember," she told him, smiling. "Makeup really doesn't suit you," she warned.

Derek smirked, "I dunno. I thought I made a very hot princess."

"If by hot you mean unusual, uh yeah, sure," she replied, shaking her head.

He snorted, filling his mouth with the rib and licking the warm sauce off his mouth. "You're just upset because I stretched your favorite dress."

Casey scowled. "That was a _great_ dress," she reminded. "And it looked a whole lot better on me." Her brows lifted for emphasis as she half-smiled down at her salad.

He shrugged, smiling comfortably. It felt a whole lot less dark for that time. "No complaints here."

They talked off and on during the meal, remembering the fights they'd had and the moments where they were at their most uncool. It was lighthearted, a teasing banter that he much preferred to their fighting. He loved the passion they had when they fought, but it was nice to see her smile and laugh. His shoulders didn't feel so weighed down and he loved that they could have that time together. He didn't want his last few days with her to be filled with a dark misery that ruined the comforting presence she possessed. Somehow, though they were eating and talking, they still managed to keep up the little touches here or there. She wiped the BBQ sauce from the side of his mouth and he licked it off her thumb. He stole a chunk of chicken from her salad and she slapped his hand, to which he feigned hurt to and she simply rolled her eyes. He forced her to eat one of his fries, telling her rabbit food was barely a meal at all. He tugged at a strand of her hair when she reminded him of the time she wore a wig and followed him and Emily on their date. She made him try her Shirley Temple, despite his complaint that it was a total girl drink. Their hands brushing as they passed it back and forth. He found their ankles wrapped around each other halfway through the meal and had to fight not to smile as her foot rubbed rhythmically at his calf. By the time the meal was done, they'd laughed more than they had in a week, smiled so much their mouths actually hurt, and felt more relaxed than they had in too long.

The waitress returned to take dessert orders, but they were both too full to stay and eat more. "Can I get a Decadent Chocolate Truffle to go," he asked the girl, looking over at Casey. "Marti loves those things," he said with a smile. "And a slice of Cheesecake, too." The waitress bounced off once more, telling them they could get the check up at the front and she'd bring the desserts out.

"I didn't know you liked Cheesecake," Casey said as she stood up, taking his hand as he offered it.

"Not one of my favorites." He shrugged, "Got it for you, not me."

She quirked a brow at him, her arm wrapping around his. "You better be careful, Derek Venturi. You're becoming quite the gentleman."

He half-smiled at her, directing toward the entrance. He paid the check before Casey could even offer, half-smirking at her when she promised to pay him back. He took the desserts from the waitress and left the restaurant, pretending it wasn't cold as he stepped outside, knowing that Casey would surely remind him of how foolish he had been not to wear a jacket. He hurried over to the car, ignoring her knowing look and climbed in. The drive back to the house was far less quiet. They turned the radio on low and made bets on whether when they got home Sam would be dressed as a princess, or if Emily had fallen asleep again, and whether or not Marti talked them into letting her have a bowl of ice cream for dinner. At some point during the drive, their hands had collided and entwined and Derek couldn't help but find comfort in the natural intimacy they had. His mind wandered and he couldn't help but think that years in the future, they could have been in the same position. Returning from a dinner out to relieve the babysitters of Marti and possibly their own children. If only life was that promising.

oTBCo

**A/N** _I already have chapter eighteen written, so there's no worries about whether another update is in order. I want to write nineteen before I post eighteen though, that way I'm on top of this story and I don't leave you guys hanging like I did. Really sorry about that. I'm glad I still have loyal readers, I really didn't mean to leave it for so long. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next is a little lighter with some **very **cute Marti moments. There was some sweet Dasey moments in this chapter too, but I must say the end of chapter eighteen really gets me!! So look forward to that! -smiles- Be sure to review, I'd really like to know what you think!_

o**_BDT_**o


	18. o18o

_**For Marti**_

o18o

When Derek and Casey arrived back at the house, they walked inside to find Sam conked out on the couch, wearing a tiara, make up and a purple feather boa. Emily could be heard upstairs telling Marti not to jump on her bed and then a loud thud told them she'd hopped off the bed to the floor. Sam was startled awake and fell off the couch. He jumped up, his eyes wide and confused and his hand fighting with the boa wrapped awkwardly around him. Derek laughed loudly, shaking his head at his best friend, who was scowling at him. "We don't tell anybody about this!" he exclaimed. Derek didn't agree or disagree, simply leaning against the wall and watching as Sam continued to try and get the boa off of him, managing to get it caught on the tiara. There was noise on the stairs and Derek turned to see Marti running toward them, wearing one of her princess dresses over her pants and cat ears on her head. "Casey! Smerek!" she shouted gleefully.

Derek lifted her up as she launched herself into his arms. "Did you have fun, Smarti?"

"Yeah!" she told him, nodding happily. "Sammy makes a pretty princess. See!" she said, turning to point at him.

Derek chuckled. "Ravishing, really," he said, smirking.

Rolling his eyes, Sam grumbled under his breath. Emily came downstairs, wearing various barrettes all through her hair and numerous bead necklaces. She stepped over to Sam and helped him with the boa, plucking the tiara from his head and telling him his makeup was smudged. Frowning, he walked off to the bathroom to wash it all away. Emily turned back to Casey and Derek. "She hasn't had dinner," she admitted, shrugging one shoulder, looking guilty. "She really wanted ice cream and we just couldn't say no."

Casey shook her head. "It's okay. We knew that would probably happen." She turned to Marti, holding her arms out and Derek held her forward as Marti moved to hop into Casey's arms. "What do you think about chicken fingers and fries?" she asked her, lifting a brow.

"Yeah!" Marti agreed.

"Okay, but you're having peas, too," Casey added as she walked them towards the kitchen.

"No!" she denied, her expression twisting with disgust.

"Just a scoop. If you eat them first, all you'll have is chicken and fries left," she told her logically.

"Can Bucket eat the peas for me?" Marti wondered innocently.

"Who's Bucket?" Casey queried.

"Our dog," she replied in her 'duh' voice.

"Marti, we don't have a dog." Casey shook her head, glancing back at Derek who was sighing, his good mood dashed quickly.

"But we will," Marti told her, nodding.

"Okay, but we don't have Bucket right now, so you have to eat your own peas," Casey told her, pushing the door open to the kitchen.

"Awww," she whined.

Their voices became muffled as the door swung shut and Derek looked over at Emily who had slumped down onto the couch, exhausted. "I'm never giving ice cream to that girl again," she decided.

Derek chuckled, moving to sit in his chair and leaning back. He found he was tired again and sighed. They still had to get the clothes together for the funeral home and then he had to find something for Marti to wear to it all. She was going to be asking questions constantly and he wasn't sure how to explain it to her. On top of that, he wasn't sure he had anything to wear to it. He couldn't remember the last time he wore a suit, but he was pretty sure he'd grown since. Rubbing at his furrowed brow, Derek wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep. Once more he found his thoughts bombarded with Casey's apartment rather than his own. He thought of her bed, her warm duvet, the small comfort provided just by a place that she occupied. The couch sat heavily in his mind and he wondered if she'd ever be able to look at it the same.

"You seem a lot less upset than you did when you left," Emily commented, lifting a brow. "I wouldn't know... but I was sure that after doing what you guys just had to do..." She shook her head, confused.

Derek cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair a bit. "It was... disturbing," he admitted, nodding slightly. "They had a room full of caskets." His eyes turned off in thought as he remembered how stifled he felt trying to decide which one his brother or father would _like_. It didn't make sense. Emily looked on with a rather pitying expression and he knew it wasn't her fault, it was just her natural reaction, but he wished people would stop direction that face at him. "I guess it was just nice to talk to Casey after. We didn't fight, we didn't even really talk about what's happened. We just... talked." He shrugged, acting impassive. "We even laughed. I don't how long it's been since I _really_ laughed." He ran a hand through his hair glancing at her to find a knowing expression had replaced that of pity. "What?"

"It's gonna be hard, you know," she said after a moment's pause. She sighed, shifting in her seat to look at him fully. "You rely on her a lot more than you think. You _both_ rely on each other a lot more than you think. It's gonna be incredibly hard to be out there, taking care of Marti every day, and _know_ that you don't have Casey to monitor, or schedule, or just to talk to." She frowned, sympathy radiating off of her. "It's not that I don't think you can raise Marti, Derek. I don't know any brother that loves his little sister as much as you do. But..." She tipped her head, lifting a shoulder. "You gotta admit, having Casey there to help raise her would make it all a whole lot easier. Better." She bit her lip for a moment. "Right?"

Derek glowered, his jaw tensing. "I _know_ that, Em." He looked over at the door to the kitchen and sighed. Finally, he simply kicked up from off his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have to go pick out some clothes," he muttered as he climbed the stairs.

Derek passed the closed bathroom door, hearing Sam mutter about how hard makeup was to get off and how he didn't know how women did it, and made his way to his dad and step-mother's bedroom. He stood at the door a moment, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, his hand shakily reaching out to touch the handle. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against the door, taking a deep breath. Finally, he gathered his courage and turned the handle, taking a step in before he forced his eyes to open. He winced as he found the bed messy as if slept in recently. It felt like so long ago since they were there and yet everything appeared as if it had just been done. The dresser tops and bedside tables were messy with things tipped over and the lamp still on. Nora's makeup was laying out and her jewelry case was open with necklaces spilling out of it. Some of their dresser drawers were even open, as if waiting for somebody to take their clothes out for a new day; a day that would never come.

Derek walked to the closet, finding it just as messy as ever. Suits and sweaters, ties and shoes all over. It was a mass of clothes, all of them overlapping each other, bursting to escape the confines of the tiny space. He was surprised his dad managed to find a suit to go to work each day. As he stepped closer, he tripped over one of Nora' s heels but caught himself on the door. Swallowing the emotion in his throat, he forced his shaky hands to search through the hangers and push away the winter sweaters to find a good suit for each of them. Would they need shoes? he wondered. It seemed pointless. But then, they didn't really need clothes either. Were they having an open casket? Would makeup cover up such a mess? He forced back the bile in his throat as it rose up at the memories of how they looked on the silver slabs in the morgue.

There was a dark blue one that he saw his dad wear often, already equipped with a crisp white shirt and a deep red tie. He pulled it down from the bar, wrestling to get it out from between the other suits. When it was finally free, he tossed it onto the bed, staring down at it for a moment. He frowned to himself, moving to sit down on the bed next to the suit that completely void of wrinkles. By the time his dad got back from work, his suits usually looked like he'd just been rolling around. His tie would be undone and dangling funny from his neck. Derek felt tears fills his eyes and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. The room sort of smelled like his dad, with a mix of Nora's floral perfume. He always thought his dad's cologne was a little too strong, but he desperately missed the smell right then. When was the last time he'd hugged his dad?

His shoulders felt stiff and tight, making the rest of his back and neck and hurt. Wiping at his eyes, he stood up quickly, running his arm over his face quickly. He hopped around on his feet a few times, trying to shake it off. He walked over to the dresser, pulling out the other necessities his dad would need. Boxers. Necessary? He didn't know. Socks. Nobody would see them and he really couldn't feel them. He tossed them on the bed anyway. Shoes? He walked back to the closet and searched around through the piles of mismatched loafers and dress shoes, finally finding a matching black pair and put them on the bed too. He chose not to even try looking for something Nora would like, knowing that he'd somehow get it all wrong. Looking down at everything he'd put together, he gave a simple nod and then left to climb upstairs to Edwin's room.

The stairs creaked as he moved, sounding rather eerie in how dark and empty the room was. The walls had the usual tacky half-naked women that Derek was sure he'd given to him shortly before he moved out. There was long poster of Babe Raider hanging by the window that made Derek's mind fly back to all those years spent playing the game; with Sam, Edwin, or even Casey. He walked over to the dresser to search around through the unfolded clothes for something resembling a suit. He tossed boxers and socks onto the bed in a pile and then continued searching through the messy dresser. He found a grey pair of slacks hidden beneath piles of jeans and shorts. Most of his shirts were simple various colors of t-shirts, with a few button up over shirts thrown in here or there. He found a few jerseys for teams he liked or that Derek played on. He finally found a button up dress shirt hidden in the bottom and knew that Casey would want to iron it since it was just a ball of wrinkles. The matching coat to the slacks was on the floor for some reason, half hidden beneath his dresser. As he pulled it out, he noticed one of Edwin's various inventions sitting on the floor, half-broken. He smiled in remembrance of his brothers odd and rather ingenious inventions over the years.

He noticed the door of the bedside table was open too and curiously looked inside to find a few stacks of Edwin's research. The top folder read "The Derek/Casey Will They Or Won't They Project," and Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes. He pulled it out and leaned back against the bed, leafing through it to find statistics and documented fights inside. There were a few pictures of them pasted throughout it, some of them fighting, others of them getting along. There was a computer print out of the two of them dancing at what looked to be a Christmas party a few years back and he wondered how he got the picture in the first place. They had been all alone out on the back deck until some guy that liked Casey came out. He even found a photo of Casey cheering at one of his college games and couldn't help but wonder how Edwin managed to get so many pictures of moments they hadn't realized he was there for. As he flipped through it, he could see Lizzie's much more girlish handwriting appear in various places. The end of the folder remarked that it was "only a matter of time before Casey realizes that Derek has been in love with her for three years and figures out that her own manic feelings match his." He sighed, shaking his head.

Putting the folder back inside, he rose from the floor and moved to leave the room, grabbing up the clothes in his arms to bring downstairs. He really wasn't feeling like making a trip back out to the funeral home, but he didn't want to get up extra early and make it out there before the funeral either. As he was walking toward the door, Edwin's computer caught his eye and he found himself watching as pictures of Nora, Lizzie, his dad, Edwin, Marti, Casey, and himself went by in a slideshow fashion. He found himself backing up to see them go, his eyes riveted. There was one of Nora and his dad kissing, Edwin having made a small speaker box above them that said "Gross." There were a few from family outings, going to the beach or visiting their grandma. There were numerous ones from when they had all been younger, long before the MacDonald family had moved in. Little Edwin looked so tiny with his dark mop of hair and a grin too big for his face. He was constantly shown tagging along after Derek, looking ever like the starstruck baby brother. With Marti still a tiny baby, being held in Edwin or Derek's arms carefully. There were lots of Derek's hockey games and practices. Some of his dressed up for a big game, others of him playing around with Sam or Edwin on his rollerblades, with Edwin padded to the max in goal.

The pictures slowly became less family oriented and more personal though, and Derek watched as photos of just Edwin and Lizzie became the usual. Lizzie doing her homework or playing soccer or sitting with Edwin on the couch. A picture of her writing in one of their project folders and of them holding hands as they sat in the backyard. That one seemed to be taken by Marti as it was crooked and Edwin was holding a hand out as if to cover them from the lens. They were obviously together, Derek could see that now. The pictures said enough. The way Lizzie's arms were always wrapped around Edwin's neck as she leaned into him, how most of the pictures had Ed smirking at her, his eyes set solely on hers in a look that really mirrored Derek with Casey. He hadn't noticed that before. Hadn't seen how close the two younger step-siblings were. His brother had a soft spot for Lizzie, he'd known that, he just hadn't realized it had progressed. They looked good together. Fit each other well. He wasn't sure how the other would make it through if only one of them had died and the other had survived. He imagined it'd be a lot like how he took it when he thought Casey was dead, or how she broke down when she was sure he'd really managed to kill himself. He tore his eyes away from the screen, needing to get away from the smiling faces and the relationship that was nevermore.

Taking the clothes downstairs, he stopped in at his dad's room to grab his too, but found Casey was laying out her mom's clothes. She turned to him, her eyes shimmering. "There's so much to pick from," she said, her voice strained and high. He nodded understandingly. "I mean, I know she likes the darker colours, but would she... would she _always_ want to wear them? Because she had a really bright personality. I mean, at home she was pretty colourful. But she... she's not going to be at _home_, right?" She sniffled, lifting her hands and wiping at her face, digging her fingers against her eyes. "I don't know how to do this. I don't _want_ to do this," she choked out, shaking her head.

Tossing the rumpled clothes on the bed, he crossed over to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her shaking body. Her hands fell from her face, encircling his shoulders, hands grasping the back of his shirt, balling it into her fists. She buried her face against his neck, her tears smearing against his skin. He rubbed her back until she was soothed into quiet and pulled back from him, nodding slowly. She turned her face back to the closet, determination set strongly in her features. Her brow furrowed and her teeth grasped onto her lip as she stepped forward, her hand reaching out to take hold of a dress shirt and pulling it down. "She always looked good in olive green," she murmured softly. "She had a beautiful complexion for it." Nodding, she reached out and pulled down a dark pair of pressed slacks. Bending her knees, she browsed through Nora's shoes, finding a matching black pair and pulled them out. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her arm and walked to the dresser to search out undergarments. "Is it weird that I don't want her to be cold?" she wondered, her voice a faint whisper.

"No," he replied, staring down at the clothes gathered for his dad. He guessed he probably wouldn't need his winter wool socks but it wasn't as if anybody would see them on the lower half of the casket. Would they fit in his dress shoes? It was absurd, really, but he too wanted to be sure that they were all warm beneath the ground.

"Do you think they'll have their wedding bands there?" she asked, going through Nora's jewelry to take out a pair of earrings and a pearl necklace. Derek nodded, hoping that they did, but not sure. Casey looked at him through the mirror, her eyes red rimmed and her face pale. "Just Lizzie left now, right?" He nodded again silently. Her gaze fell to the bundle of clothes. "I should iron them all, make sure there aren't any wrinkles." Derek gathered the clothes and followed her into Lizzie's room, feeling out of place in the emptiness. He'd hardly ever set in foot in her room. Various soccer emblems were placed throughout the room and he spotted a picture of her with Edwin on her dresser.

When Casey opened Lizzie's closet, it was the complete opposite of Nora and his father's. Her clothes were all hung up, with no real clutter. Her soccer jersey seemed to be the most important, all the other clothes were pressed back away from it, as if making it so special it couldn't be touched by other fabrics. Casey fingered through the sweaters, the odd sundress and a fancy gown that was obviously for the spring formal at her and Ed's high school. Casey pulled out a black dress, casual with capped shoulders and a scoop neck. It was long enough that it didn't look dressy, but not so much that it looked odd. He wondered why Lizzie owned it, since it was so dark and she had such a vibrant personality. Casey pulled a box out of a corner and Derek found it rather funny to see that Lizzie owned so many high heels. Casey looked through it only a few seconds before she pulled out a pair and stood up, closing the closet and backing out of the room quickly. "Do you know where the iron is?" she wondered lifting a brow.

Derek shook his head, walking close behind her. He followed her into the kitchen, looking over at Marti who was eating her dinner with Emily and Sam, who also had a plate of chicken fingers, fries, and peas. Sam seemed to be avoiding the green vegetables all together, but Emily was trying to set an example by eating them. Casey looked over and frowned at Sam, "You better eat those or Marti won't give you a bite of her chocolate truffle," she warned in what sounded like a very motherly tone.

"Aww, you got her a truffle?" he asked, glaring at Derek. "Where's the love?"

Derek snorted, trailing after Casey as she stopped in the laundry room to look around for the iron and ironing board. She put the dress over Derek's shoulder so it wouldn't be wrinkled, the only one out of the pile that wasn't messy. After looking all over and searching behind a pile of clothes, she found the board on the floor, accidentally hidden. She decided to set it up in the kitchen so she could talk to everybody while she worked and Derek placed the pile of clothes on the counter before pulling himself up to sit on it. She moved to stand next to him as the iron warmed up, her back sat against against his legs as she leaned into his hands while they rubbed her shoulders.

"How long should it take?" he wondered.

She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes closed as she fell victim to his hands. "Maybe an hour."

"I'll call the funeral home, let them know," he offered, climbing down off the counter. "I can drop you and Marti off at your apartment and then drive out."

Casey shook her head. "That'll take too long. We might as well stay here," she said, her eyes looking around rather apprehensively.

Derek frowned, "If we stay here we'll have to be up extra early. We have to get back to our apartments, get our clothes together for the funeral."

"Well... Marti could just come with us to the funeral home tonight and one of us can run it in while the other stays with her in the car," Casey told him, lifting a shoulder.

"She'll ask questions," he muttered, shaking his head.

"We'll have to answer them eventually. The funeral is tomorrow. Has she ever been to one? She'll be confused if she sees them..." She bit her lip, looking over at Marti as she animatedly ate her chicken fingers while Sam suffered through his peas.

"We had a funeral of sorts for her dead hamster once," he offered, lifting a brow.

Casey sighed, shaking her head. "We're gonna have to tell her."

Derek looked back at his little sister as she laughed at something Emily was saying. "Maybe she just shouldn't go at all."

"There's no one for her to stay with," she reminded, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Okay," he finally decided, his arm lifting to wrap around her waist as he leaned back against the counter. "We'll explain it in the morning. I don't want to ruin her day. She's had a lot of fun and she's in a good mood. We'll ask Emily or Sam to watch her tonight. Her clothes are here anyway. After we drop off the clothes at the funeral home, we'll take a trip to my place and pick up my suit. Then we'll head back to your apartment, crash there for tonight. And tomorrow, we'll head back over here and explain everything to Marti. The food is taken care of for the wake, the place is as clean as it'll get, and we should have enough time tomorrow morning to get it all done." He turned his head to her, his chest clenching as she turned hers up to him, her mouth just an inch from his. "What do you think?" he managed to get out, clearing his throat and averting his eyes.

"Sounds good," she agreed, her hand squeezing his side. She broke away from him and walked to the ironing board, laying out his dad's pants and straightening them out.

He nodded, crossing the kitchen to get the phone. With their plan set, he only had to talk Emily or Sam into watching Marti, which wasn't looking so hard now. She seemed to be crashing from her earlier sugar high. Her eyes were droopy and she was stirring her chicken finger in her peas. She probably wouldn't make it to dessert, she'd be off in bed before Casey was even done ironing. The funeral home closed an hour before, but the janitor cleaning up assured Derek that the woman who had been working earlier said he could bring the clothes by and the janitor would make sure they got to the right room. Derek made his way back into the kitchen to sit back up on the counter, watching Casey as she put each newly ironed item into a suit bag that he couldn't fathom where she'd found. Leaning back, he watched her attention move from the clothes in front of her to Marti at the table every few moments, checking on her progress. Every once in awhile she'd call out, "Drink your milk, Marti," or "Those peas won't eat themselves," and Marti would whine but accommodate her. Despite the fact that she was tired, Marti was pretending as well as she could that she was wide awake.

"Scrape off your plate and put it in the sink, Marti. Then you can brush your teeth and get your pajamas on," Casey called, her brow furrowed as she ironed out a huge wrinkle on Edwin's pants.

"I'm not tirrrrred," Marti moaned, shaking her head and pouting.

"If you're not tired then Sam can't read you a bedtime story, can he?" she replied, smiling back at the six year old.

"Will you?" Marti asked the boy beside her as he lifted a chicken finger to his mouth. Caught off guard with surprise, Sam simply nodded, shrugging one shoulder. "Okay!" Marti hopped off her chair and hurried into the kitchen, discarding the last of her fries and peas and dropped the plate in the sink. She ran back into the room and smiled back up at Emily. "Emily's gonna listen too," she exclaimed.

"Ask, don't tell," Casey told her, shaking her head.

Sighing, Marti looked up at Emily pleadingly. "Would you like to listen to Sammy tell us a story?" she wondered, smiling.

"Sure," Emily agreed, standing up.

"Okay, but you'll have to brush your teeth and get into your pajamas," Marti warned, wagging a finger. "It's proper bedtime _appetite_."

"Etiquette," Casey corrected, smiling warmly to herself.

Emily laughed, "All right, I'll go get my pajamas now," she agreed, passing by Derek and Casey on her way to the back door. "Guess I'm the one watching the munchkin tonight," she said, shrugging.

"Probably easier that way anyway. You're right next door while Sam will have to go down the street to get ready," Casey told her, glancing over her shoulder.

"I don't mind. She's a handful, but she's fun," Emily replied, backing toward the door. "I'll be back in a few."

A little over an hour later, Marti was fast asleep in her room, Sam had gone home, and Emily was tiredly watching TV, barely keeping her eyes open as she sat on the couch in her pink and white striped PJ's. After laying the outfits in the backseat of Derek's car, Casey called out to him just as he was exiting the house. "Grab our dessert from the fridge, we'll eat in when we get home." Nodding, he walked back to the fridge and grabbed the white Styrofoam box holding the Cheesecake. Waving goodbye to Emily, he crossed to the door with her trailing behind him so she could lock it and wave to Casey.

"I bet it'll be nice to get home and relax," she commented to him as he walked out the door.

Derek turned, nodding to her. "Been a long day."

Emily smiled at him knowingly. "Funny how certain places can become home-like without us even meaning for them to. These last few years I spent a lot of time over here. Didn't realize how much I relied on George, Nora, and the rest until they weren't here anymore." She shrugged her shoulder, looking around the house surrounding her. "Guess we don't realize what we have until it's gone."

"Yeah," Derek agreed, his throat tightening.

"Drive safe," Emily told him seriously. "You've got quite the trip ahead of you before you get home. Funeral home, your apartment..." Derek stared at her, his brow furrowing as she smiled slowly. "Sometimes, the things that come to us easiest, like a slip of the tongue or brushing off a comment that isn't true, they say more than we mean them to." She looked over his shoulder at Casey as she sat in the car. "You can pretend that it won't be better having her there, but deep down you can't deny that you wish this would all turn out like a fairytale ending with the happily ever after. In the purple house with the dog named Bucket where little Marti lives with her adopted parents, prince Derek and princess Casey, forever and ever. The end."

Derek's jaw flexed. "Life isn't ever that easy."

Emily nodded agreeably, her eyes falling for a moment. "And sometimes we make it harder for ourselves," she told him, sniffling. "You're afraid that if you don't run with Marti, she'll be stuck with Abby. But how is she gonna take it when Casey isn't there to tell her to drink her milk and eat her peas and brush her teeth?" she wondered, lifting a brow.

"I can do those things," he replied. His brow furrowed, annoyed that she didn't think he could be the fatherly figure.

"Of course you can," Emily agreed, nodding. "You'll tuck her in each night and tell her a story, then you'll drop her off at school in the morning and pick her up after. Or you'll get a babysitter to, because you'll need to get a job to support both of you. You'll have to be careful though, because you're on the run. It's going to be hard to get Marti into a school, too, but it'll be okay because you'll have each other. And she'll beg you to let her call Casey and you'll struggle with yourself because you want to call her too. Because you want to go _home_. Home to Casey and the happily ever after that life seems too cruel to grant."

She sighed, tipping her head and frowning, "So you'll live it out, moving from one place to another, until Marti being '_kidnapped'_ is old news. Maybe you'll venture back here to London, look Casey up. She'll be ecstatic to see you both and show you around her perfect little house with its manicured lawn and mini-van parked in the driveway. She'll introduce you to her husband who has a very regular name and regular job, he's rather boring but he provides Casey with a secure, comfortable future. You'll meet her two kids, a boy and a girl, who are both polite and normal, nothing extraordinary except that they can each play an instrument and are on the honors list at their schools. They'll have a dog with a common name, he's very well trained and Casey or her boring husband walk him three times a day, very scheduled," she assured, nodding.

She bit her lip a moment, pausing, her eyes settling on his seriously. "And you'll know you really lost your chance. That she moved on and you never did. You'll say goodbye, promise to keep in touch, and take Marti away. Maybe you'll stay in town, maybe you won't. But you'll know that Casey isn't who she used to be, she isn't who you fell in love with or the girl who was ready to raise Marti with you and love you forever. So you'll go on in a life that you were never meant to lead, have a job you hate and wait for the day that Marti graduates, moves out, resents you for taking her away and only calls once a month, if you're lucky. Life goes on. Life gets meaner. And you'll always regret that day, years before, when you left Casey behind and drove off into the world, looking to give Marti a better life while yours was flushed down the toilet." Her jaw was set, her eyes were teary, and her expression was sad.

"I can tell that I just hurt you, or that at the very least I put every fear you have out there on the table," she said quietly, nodding slowly. Reaching out, she put a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to think about that when you go back to Casey's apartment tonight and hold her as you fall asleep. I want you to think about the fact that years from now, you'll be in a cramped apartment with only Marti and you won't be able to remember what it felt like to have Casey close. And then I want you to ask yourself if you're doing the right thing. For you or Marti." Her arm fell and she backed up into the house a step. "Life is what _we_ make it, Derek. Your family is dead because a boy was stupid enough to drink and drive. Marti is in your care right now because Casey refused to hand her over to Abby. And in a couple days, when everything is settled, you'll have to make that life altering choice. Do you stay or do you go? That one answer is going to decide your whole future for you." Her eyes glanced past him to the car. "Your princess is falling asleep, you better go."

Derek nodded jerkily, his shoulders heavy and his chest aching. His throat burned too much for him to say anything, so he simply turned and walked to his car. Climbing in, he looked over to Casey as she sat half-slumped in her seat, her eyes fluttering.

"Tired?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

She nodded at him, her hand reaching out to take his, warm and comforting. "I wish I could just go straight home and crawl into bed." She sat up suddenly, looking a little more awake. "I didn't leave the iron on, did I?"

Derek shook his head. "No," he said, smiling lightly. "You unplugged it and put it back where you found it. It should be fine."

Casey's eyes turned up as she seemed to remember and slowly settled back into her seat. "You ready to go? If we're going to be going all the way out to your apartment to get your stuff, we have a long drive ahead of us," she reminded.

Derek nodded, starting the car. Twenty minutes later, he'd dropped the clothes off with the janitor and was on his way out to his apartment. Casey was almost completely asleep next to him, her eyes flying open every once in awhile as she tried to stay up. He chuckled at how adorable she looked, her hand still held in his as he drove quietly, the radio off so she could doze. She mumbled something next to him and he glanced at her. "Derek?" she said a little more clearly.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Did'ju take Bucket for his walk?" she muttered, her eyes still closed.

He stared at her a moment before remembering her had to watch the road. "N-No," he choked out, his brow furrowed.

"Don' forget," she told him, wrinkling her nose. "Or he'll bug us all night when he wants out. An' Marti has t'get up early t'm'row... Hockey practice." She nuzzled her cheek against the headrest, eyes closed. "Be quiet. Don' wake Ryan," she whispered. She was so tired, her words tended to slur.

"Ryan?" he croaked, his eyes burning. He felt jealousy tearing at his chest and winced.

"He needs his sleep. He missed his nap this mornin," she sighed, frowning. "I don' wan' him gettin' off schedule. Gotta start young." Her brows lifted as if trying to convince him.

Derek's eyes widened, realization sinking in. He was at a loss for words. He probably shouldn't even be encouraging her. She was obviously stuck between dreamland and real life. He knew he should wake her up, tell her she was talking nonsense in her sleep. But instead, he licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Okay," he agreed, nodding. Maybe he'd let himself have that one short moment of happily ever after. Even if he never got to experience it for real.

"Good," she replied, letting out a soft, content sigh. "Love you," she murmured sleepily.

Derek squeezed her hand lightly, a smile tugging at his mouth as he felt his shoulders relax and his heart swell. "Love you, too."

* * *

**A/N** _I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Personally, the end always makes me smile sadly. I really liked writing Emily in this chapter too. I'll update again soon! Thank you to all of you who've reviewed, I'm glad this story is still reaching so many! Thanks for reading!_ _Be sure to review, I'd like to know what you think!_

o**BDT**o


	19. o19o

_**For Marti**_

o19o

There's a moment where he's standing at the car and the funeral seems like a distant memory. He has Marti's hand and the car keys are gripped tight between his fingers. Casey isn't there; she has no idea what he's thinking. Mart is tired, she's rubbing her eyes and asking him what they're doing, where they're going and he has no answers, not really. The reply he does have is only going to upset her. So instead, he buckles her into her seat and he climbs up front and turns the ignition. He doesn't know where they're going, he knows Casey would have it planned down to the very last letter, but she's not coming with. And so he takes one last look at his childhood home, silently says goodbye and pulls out of the driveway. And as he goes, he feels the last bit of heart he has left crack and crumble.

Derek woke up in a sweat, his head throbbing and his body drenched in sweat.

"Wha's wrong?" came the sleepy concern from the girl lying next to him. She sat up, her dark hair in disarray and one of her hands reached his shaking shoulder. "Nightmare?"

He swallowed tightly. Was it? He was planning to leave, wasn't he? That was his big master plan to keep Marti from suffering through Abby. So shouldn't it be a relief to dream of the future? To know that he could, and would, be able to take her away as planned?

"Hey?" she murmured and then she was hugging him, her hand stroking his back to calm him down. He closed his eyes tight, it was too hard to be this close and not question himself and all of his decisions of late.

She smelled good, felt even better, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and never let go. But the uncertainty of what was going to happen stopped him and all he could do was lean back, taking her with him until they were both sprawled back on the bed. It didn't take her long to fall back asleep, but this time she was cuddled up to him and he couldn't help himself from stroking her arm as it laid across his chest. He wondered if in the future, he'd ever _not _regret leaving her behind.

oOo

There's a three day period that goes by in a blur. One minute he's lying in bed with Casey, holding on to her as long as he possibly could, and the next he's explaining what a wake was to Marti. She was still confused in the end, but he told himself there was really nothing more to be said. The funeral felt never-ending; it seemed to drag on, filled with sadness that only choked him. He eyed the exit like a life-preserver, wanting to run for it, escape and never look back. But Casey sat on one side, holding his hand tightly, and Marti on the other, inching herself into his lap with every blubbery sigh coming from the person next to her.

He watched as people rose to say something nice, as children and adults shared their memories of Lizzie and Edwin, Nora and his dad. He remembered how Casey's hand tightened the longer the funeral went on, until he could no longer feel his own but couldn't manage to care. He rested his cheek against her head, inhaled the sweetness of her hair, and waited for it to be over. There were blown up pictures of his family within reach but staring at them, these unmoving images left him empty inside. He shook hands with strangers and distant family members, nodding his head mechanically at their condolences, but all he wanted was for the day to end.

There was a gathering at the house afterwards. He sat with a paper plate on his knee, filled with food he never touched. Marti never left his side. She did, however, pick food off his plate when hers was empty, rather than desert him to get another helping. Casey walked around as host, hugging those that ran at her with open arms, taking the pity and the sorrow like a pro. But he could see her mask cracking, watched her lips twitch and the way her eyes turned toward the stairs, wanting to get away.

He gave it an hour, put up with all the nameless faces and the pats on his shoulder. And then, when he couldn't put up with it anymore, he snuck into the kitchen where Casey was preparing more hors d'oeuvres. He grabbed her hand, ignoring her protest and the three of them, with Marti hiked up on his hip, fled into the backyard. Casey tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for an explanation, and instead of admitting how claustrophobic he was feeling and knew she was too, he gathered up a snowball and tossed it at her.

Ten minutes was spared for them to have a snowball fight. Ten minutes of chasing each other around in a yard that used to be filled with the laughter of their family. He heard Marti's shrieks, her giggles and he picked her up and tossed her in the air. He felt his chest lighten for those few moments. He watched as Casey's cheeks rosied with the cold and stopped himself from cupping her face and warming her. He and Marti waged war on Casey until his little sister deflected to make a girls team against him. And in the end, when they were lying in the snow, making angels and breathing heavily, he hoped his dad and his brother, his step-sister and the mother he wished he'd had all along, was staring down with pride.

It was all over too quick when somebody came looking and dragged them back into the mix. But for just a moment, he'd seen Casey smile and he's played with his Smarti, and the weight had fallen from their shoulders.

In the week to follow there were lawyers and wills and bills to deal with. People kept phoning, bringing over casseroles and telling them that whatever they needed, somebody was always there to help. Being George, he hadn't updated his will since shortly after he and Nora married. So there was no reassurance behind the idea that maybe, perhaps, by some chance, it would all come together easily and he'd get Marti. He was warned that Abby would fight and he would likely lose, but he refused to back down. He was Derek Venturi afterall, he always got what he wanted.

oOo

Packing Marti's things seemed easier that he'd thought. Especially since she was doing it all for him. He should get in the middle and tell her to get clothes other than what she used to dress-up, but instead he sat on the floor next to a large suitcase, watching pink and purple articles fly messily inside.

"Which one's prettier? The blue or the yellow?" she asked, holding up two ridiculous looking dresses that seemed to be half plastic and half taffeta.

"Uh…"

She nodded. "Me too!" she exclaimed, tossing them both inside the suitcase before tapping her chin. "Okay… now I have to get all my crowns…" She started digging inside the mess that was her closet while he simply sighed to himself. His packing had taken all of fifteen minutes; clothes, one pair of shoes, toothbrush and toothpaste, a brush, his leather jacket and his CD's. There. Done.

He tossed it in the trunk and the glared moodily inside. Unfortunately, he didn't think kidnapping Casey would go over well in the long-run. She'd forced herself back to work, despite being told she should take some time off, and when she wasn't at the bridal shop she was researching adoption. He gave up on telling her it was pointless. They were spending most nights at her apartment, with Marti taking up the space between them, and so he enjoyed what time he had left with her. He couldn't fall asleep until he was sure both of them were.

Every morning, he woke up and he just… he stared at her. She was beautiful. Always had been. Even in those awkward years of pigtail braids and braces she'd had an adorable factor. Sometimes when he woke up, Marti was already in the living room enjoying cartoons, so it was just him and her and he could imagine… He could think of a future where he woke up with her there in his arms and this was all behind them, finally.

"Smerek?"

He came out of his thoughts abruptly. "Yeah?"

"What d'you think Casey will bring?" she wondered, bringing out a pile of over-sized, discolored high heels to pack.

He cleared his throat painfully. "Dunno. Same stuff as you, I guess."

She nodded brightly.

Her eyes widened. "D'you think she'll let me get Bucket right away?"

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. "I don't know. We'll see."

He'd been fielding questions like that for awhile now. Every other minute, she was wondering about Casey; what Casey would do or like or want when they moved. He didn't know how to tell her she wasn't coming. That Casey wasn't going to a part of the future for them. He could already see that she wouldn't take it well; that she'd yell and scream and beg him to go back and get her. And he couldn't deny that he already wanted to, badly.

oOo

Casey was currently fitting a very finicky bride in a dress she would call ten shades of horrific, but her bride-to-be was in love with the monstrosity. She did her best to hide her scowl, which wasn't really hard since she'd been wearing a pathetically lame smile for what felt like forever.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to try something else on?" she offered hopefully. "I have an amazing off-white dress that was just sent over from—"

"Are you _kidding_? This is _it! _My dress!" she gushed over a wad of gum she'd been neurotically chewing that past three hours.

Casey nodded jerkily. "Right, of course, I'll just—"

A knock at the door interrupted her and she turned appreciatively before the tick of her eye could be noticed.

"Casey? There's someone here to see you. They're waiting in the lobby," her assistant Lisa informed her.

Nodding over a confused frown, Casey excused herself before leaving the room and making her way out to see her guest. She rather expected Derek to appear, maybe even hoped for it. A nice lunch away with just him and Marti was just what she needed. She sometimes thought maybe taking those offered days off would be better. She could go back to the short time in between all this chaos when it was just her and her two favorite people. Where Marti would whine about vegetables and Derek would let her do all the disciplining. However, when she stepped through the elegant arch overhanging the hallway, she stopped short.

"Abby?" Her eyes widened at the woman before her and she felt her insides harden.

Stepping forward primly, Abby scrutinized her head to toe. "We need to talk," she said plainly.

Somehow, Casey got the feeling 'talk' really meant they were going to have a very public, very loud, fight…

oOo

"How come we have to go _now_…?" Marti whined from the backseat. "Casey isn't done work until the big hand is on the fiiiive!"

Derek frowned. "You remember when I told you that mom wanted you to live with her?"

"Mmhmm." She nodded, wrinkling her nose with distaste.

"Well, she still does, and… Look, Smarti… there's a really good chance that she's gonna win and you'll have to move in with her." He licked his lips nervously as he turned the key in the ignition.

Marti gaped. "No! I don't wanna!" She kicked her legs in imitation of the on-coming temper-tantrum.

"I know." He stared downward. "I don't want you to either. So… So we're gonna go away, all right? Just like I promised. And we won't have to worry about mom taking you. It'll just be me and you, okay?" He swallowed tightly, clenching his teeth.

"And Casey too," she exclaimed happily.

He didn't reply.

"Smerek?"

He grunted, backing out of the driveway, refusing to look back at her.

"Smerek? Casey's coming too, right?" she asked, her excitement diminishing quickly.

"Casey… She can't… She's gotta…" He shook his head. "Casey's just gotta stay here, okay. She's… She's got a life here and… and-"

"No!" she yelled. "No, no, no! Uh uh!" Unbuckling herself, she sat forward quickly and started beating on his shoulder with her fists in frustration. "We lost daddy and Nora and Ed and Lizzie and I- I- No!" she cried, shaking her head. "I want Casey!" she sobbed, falling back to her seat and pulling her knees up to her chest. "Y-You promised! You said!"

Tears burned his eyes while he struggled for control. The car drove slowly down the street he'd grown up on, passing house after house he'd seen so many times he could still name all the people who lived there. There was Mr. Norris, who always complained that Derek was playing in his garden, picking all the flowers. He denied it, of course, even if he _had _been doing that, giving them to the cute girl who just moved in. Mr, and Mrs. Cartwright, the couple with no kids and four cats. Widow Jane, the lady that always smiled at him sadly when he rode by on his bike. Old Mr. Walker that was always saying his kids were coming to visit, even though they never did, and fixed the old car he'd had for decades instead of buying a new one. Mrs. Sampson who said to call her Trudy because she wasn't really all that old, even if she had more wrinkles that he'd ever seen before. The twins, whose parents he never met, but he'd been sure to get close to the cute girls in his junior year, learning just how different they really were, underneath their shirts at least. One of them stuffed while the other definitely didn't need to.

He smiled lightly at the memories, glanced morosely at Ms. Mavis as she watered her lawn, muttering to herself like usual. All the while, his childhood home disappeared in the rearview mirror. He turned right and headed toward the highway. Given enough time, they could disappear somewhere in the states. Nobody would know they were missing for awhile yet. Casey would keep quiet, knowing that this was a one-time chance and while she'd miss them, she wouldn't give them up.

He tried to block out Marti's hysterical sobbing but it only managed to make the ball of pain in his throat thicken. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at the tears on his face, cleared his throat and continued forward. She'd stop crying eventually, she'd thank him in the future, she would understand. He hoped.


End file.
